Bringing Light into Darkness
by Wonder and Ashes
Summary: A Slayer who thinks for herself, a vampire who was made wrong, and a series of events that inevitably draws them together. Set in an AU world where Angel never got a soul. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter One: Helpless

**Disclaimer** : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Chapter Notes** : This was written in response to a challenge from **Tempestt** on _Elysian Fields_ , and posted as part of the site's Challenge Month. I've always loved reading stories in which Buffy and Spike meet under different circumstances, and it's why this challenge spoke to me; it incorporates the idea of Angel never being cursed with a soul and the Whirlwind never breaking up, thus never coming to Sunnydale, so Spike's history and Buffy's history will be a little different, which I'll reveal over the course of the story. This first chapter includes dialogue from the season three episode "Helpless".

* * *

"When I hit him it felt like my arm was broken. It hurt so much…" I try to choke back the sob that almost escapes, not wanting Giles to hear just how much the earlier encounter affected me. The almost-sob is hidden underneath the roar of the car engine.

Going out was a bad idea. I knew it the moment I climbed out my bedroom window. But I couldn't leave Sunnydale defenceless, despite what Giles said; that Kendra could handle patrol alone for a few nights without me while we figured out what's wrong.

Why I'm suddenly a normal girl again.

Willow and Xander think it's poison, or some kind of illness that only affects Slayers. They're adamant that it's something that can be fixed, and their support is the only reason I haven't broken down completely. In the almost-two years that I've known them we've become inseparable; always there for each other despite our ups and downs. I'm glad to have them.

But it makes me feel worse, knowing that I can't defend them anymore. I may never be able to defend them again.

I have my own theory for what's going on. The Slayer line has been split. I died and came back – thank you, Xander – and after that Faith was called. Then after she died, Kendra was called. Kendra hasn't said anything to me, but I get the impression that she agrees with my theory; she's treating me like I don't matter anymore, like I'll soon be gone for good.

Maybe not for good, at least not the girl part of me. But the Slayer part, definitely.

So either my powers will come back or they won't. I hope we find out which it is soon; I don't think I can take this anymore. Either they're coming back or I'm making plans to move as far away from the Hellmouth as I can. And convince Mom and Dawn to come with. I can't defend myself, and I can't defend them.

My friends will be better off with Kendra protecting them.

Pulling myself out of my thoughts I look out the car window and realize we're driving along a road I don't recognize. It's dark, which doesn't help.

Giles isn't driving me home. He's not driving me to his flat, or even to the school. Where is he taking me?

"Where are we?" I ask. I turn and notice that he's gripping the steering wheel extra tight. There're also little beads of sweat on his forehead. On a normal person they wouldn't be that noticeable.

But this is Giles, and Giles never sweats.

"On the outskirts of town," he replies. There's a small stutter in his voice. Something's wrong, and I'm afraid to ask what it is. "There's an inn; the Sunnydale Arms. That's…that's where I'm taking you."

"But why?" He doesn't reply. "Giles, you're scaring me." In an attempt to lighten the mood I say, "Are you just saying that so I don't ruin the surprise of you taking me to the ice show?" Earlier today I could tell that he really didn't want to go, but he never said 'no' outright. At the time I was still upset over Dad bailing on me, so maybe I didn't notice him silently agreeing.

"No, it's not that." Giles shakes his head.

My heart sinks. "Then I don't understand."

He lets out the breath he must've been holding throughout the entire car journey. "Buffy…" He looks at me then back at the road, and I can tell that he's struggling to find his words. First I lose my strength, and now this. It's turning out to be the worst birthday ever.

And that's saying something considering what happened last year.

"Giles…" I hint for him to continue.

Somehow his grip on the steering wheel tightens further. I didn't think that was possible. "First and foremost, this was not my idea. It goes against everything the Council should stand for, but… That barbarian Travers insisted that this would be best for you. A Slayer has not survived for as long as you have in so long…"

"What are you talking about?" What's this got to do with the Council? And this Travers guy? I've heard Giles mention his name a few times before. He's the head of the Council. But what's he got to do with all of this?

He shakes his head. "I can't reveal anymore. It's against protocol… I could be fired. And they have already threatened to fire and deport me if I intervene in any way, even through something as trivial as giving you a warning."

If I wasn't scared before, then I would be now. Why would Giles be giving me a warning? A warning about what? "The Council threatened to fire you? _Deport_ you?" I've already lost one Watcher, back in LA. I can't lose another. "Giles, if the Council threatened that then I won't hold it against you."

"You will not be so understanding once it's over." The car pulls to a halt, and I look ahead of me in time to catch a glimpse of a group of people standing beside the Sunnydale Arms before Giles's headlights switch off and everything goes dark.

Giles climbs out of the car first, and I hesitate before following. In movies when people drive out of town and into the middle of nowhere, it never ends well. With everything that's happened to me over the past three years, I dread to think what lies ahead for me in those same circumstances.

We walk towards the group of people; two of them are holding those old fashioned lanterns, but the light isn't very bright and it isn't until I'm closer that I recognize at least two of them.

Lydia looks just as uncomfortable as Giles. She's been doing better since Faith's death; pouring herself into running the school has helped with that. She's no longer the uptight, no-nonsense woman who took over the role of Principal after Flutie was killed; Faith had a hand in getting her to loosen up a bit. From up-tight British woman to determined fighter, and now to the almost empty shell of someone in mourning. Giles, for the most part, has been the same since Jenny's death.

I also recognize Wesley, Kendra's Watcher. He took the role after the Jamaican girl's original Watcher was killed not long after she was called. He's nothing like Giles or Lydia; he never gets involved in the fights, always jumps to conclusions based on outdated Council teachings and has a low tolerance for both my school and my friends. He's a stickler for the rules, not understanding why Giles allowed me to attend school or even have friends.

He and Kendra make the perfect pair.

I don't recognize the other three men. The two holding the lanterns look like lackeys; emotionless and well-dressed, showing no individual character whatsoever. And in the centre of them all is a short, bald man in a tweed suit that makes Giles's fashion choices look tame by comparison. He would've reminded me a little of Merrick if he didn't look so cold and business-like. Merrick was stern but well-meaning; always doing what was best for me and willing to make compromises while also pushing me to try harder. This man looks like the type who would be stern just for the heck of it.

It doesn't take me long to figure out that this is Travers, the head of the Council.

But what is he doing here? And what's with the meeting in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of the night? It's creepy.

I hope we're not gonna be burying a body.

I hope more that the body in question won't be me.

"You're late," says Travers, addressing Giles. He doesn't even spare a glance at me. None of them do, apart from Lydia; the look she sends my way is one full of both encouragement and worry.

"There was an incident," says Giles. "Buffy was attacked by two vampires."

Travers's gaze flickers to me for only a moment. It's not one of sympathy, but of disappointment. Charming. Nice to know he cares about the Slayer he's using to wage a war against the undead. "I thought I told you to prevent her from going out."

"Miss Summers is stubborn," Wesley speaks up. He looks even more nervous than Giles does, though him looking nervous at all isn't a surprise. "I mentioned that in my report."

Wait, a report? And why did Travers tell Giles to stop me from patrolling? "What's going on? Do you know what's happening to me?"

"We do," Travers replies, finally giving me his full attention. "It is a test. On her eighteenth birthday a Slayer is weakened and put up against a foe she must defeat without her usual strength. A Slayer is not just physical prowess; she must have cunning, imagination, a confidence derived from self-reliance. Once this is all over, you will be stronger for it."

Wait…what?

"Or she'll be dead for it," says Giles. I can see his anger just waiting to boil over. He's clearly uncomfortable. "It's an archaic exercise in cruelty."

"I have to agree with Giles," Lydia speaks up, but not as confidently as Giles. "To lock her in that…prison…weakened, defenceless…and then to unleash _him_ on her… It is barbaric."

Giles's words come back to me. _That barbarian Travers insisted that this would be best for you…_

"If any one of the Council still had actual contact with a Slayer, they would see," Giles continues. "But myself and Lydia are the only ones in the thick of it." I notice that he doesn't include Wesley on that list.

"Which is why the both of you are not qualified to make this decision," says Travers. His expression doesn't change. I wonder if he's a robot, like Ted. "You're both too close. You've both lost too much already." At those words Lydia lowers her head and takes a step back.

I clench my fist. That was a low blow. It's not Lydia's fault that Faith died.

That she ended up putting a bullet in her own head.

"So let me get this straight," I speak up. "For some weird reason, a Slayer's powers vanish on her eighteenth birthday, so the Council decides to take the opportunity to test her? When she's at her weakest? When I can't even hit a normal _human_?!" I try not to raise my voice, but it breaks a little. Why would they do this?

"A Slayer's powers do not vanish on their own. She is given a suppressant that weakens her muscles; prevents her from climbing back to the top of her game. In simpler words, they are taken from her." At this Travers looks over at Giles. "By her Watcher."

Everything freezes.

 _By her Watcher_.

My powers didn't just go away, I realize. They were taken from me. Ripped away from me without my consent or even wanting them gone.

And Giles was the one who took them.

I can't look at him. I can only stare at the dirt path beneath my feet as tears begin to well up in my eyes. Giles did this to me. He made me feel weak. He didn't tell me what was happening, and I was almost killed. I can't defend myself against the monsters I have to face every night. I can't even defend myself against humans.

I've been feeling helpless, asking Giles what's wrong with me, if he could fix me…and all along he _knew_.

And I thought Dad bailing on me was the worst betrayal I could imagine. This is worse. So, _so_ much worse.

"What right…did you have…to do this to me?" I barely whisper.

"I'm sorry, Buffy, I…" He tries to lay a hand on my shoulder but I push it away as violently as I can manage. "I didn't have a choice."

He said so in the car. Said that they threatened to fire him; deport him. But wouldn't he have done that to stop this from happening to me? Isn't that what a father's supposed to do; protect their children from harm?

This is the total opposite of that. Giles was supposed to be different than Dad – but not even Dad would do something like this.

He tries to lay a hand on my shoulder again but I stumble away. "Get away from me!" I try to wipe away the tears that are now flooding over my cheeks, not wanting to look as vulnerable as I feel in front of our audience. I swallow, raise my chin and level my gaze at Travers. "I'm not doing your stupid _test_."

The man still doesn't change his expression. Definitely a robot. "I'm afraid you do not have a choice, Miss Summers."

Before I have time to react the two men I don't know stride forwards, grab hold of my arms and drag me towards the inn.

Towards whatever horrors await me inside. And judging from the words of Giles and Lydia, it can't be anything of the good.

"No, wait! Please! Don't do this!" I try to struggle from their grasp, but without my powers it's hopeless. I'm not the Slayer anymore. I'm just a girl; a normal girl, maybe even weaker than normal, because I've gotten so used to being the strong one.

And now they're trapping me with a monster, and with no guarantee that I'll be getting out alive.

"No! Wait!" I hear Giles pleading behind me but I ignore his cries. This is all his fault. He took my powers from me, and now it's gonna kill me.

Killed by my own Watcher.

I thought the Master would do me in. Or Dracula, or Acathla.

But not my own Watcher.

I'm dragged inside and thrown to the floor. I'm able to stumble to my feet, but the door is closed and locked behind me before I can try and escape. I consider banging on the door and begging them to let me out, but I know it won't do me any good.

I saw the look on Travers's face. He doesn't care what happens to me. All he cares about is this stupid test.

But how can I fight whatever's in here without any weapons?

Just as I ask myself this I spy a bag sat on a worn couch in the next room. I walk towards it hesitantly, hoping it's not some kind of trap, but I determine that it's not when I reach it and I open it up to look inside.

It's filled with all sorts of weapons; stakes, a crossbow, crosses, Holy water… The stakes and the crossbow won't do me any good. I can't aim, and I don't have the strength to stake a vampire. I wouldn't be able to pierce the skin. Dragging either around would just hinder me, especially since there's plenty of broken wood lying around.

At least I know now that my opponent is a vampire.

I begin to pocket the crosses and Holy water, all the while wondering why the Council left this stuff for me. They seemed adamant to force me to do this so-called "test" without any help, and by my definition, having any form of weapon means having help. I reach into the bag again and my hand touches a piece of paper. I pull it out and find it scrawled with Lydia's handwriting:

 _We are not allowed to provide a Slayer with weapons, but I disagree with the rule. You need all the help you can get._

 _L.C._

 _P.S. Your opponent is William the Bloody_

Thank you, Lydia. At least someone's trying to help me.

Wait…

The note drops from my hand when it registers what she's just told me.

William the Bloody.

 _To lock her in that…prison…weakened, defenceless…and then to unleash_ _ **him**_ _on her…_

Why would they force me to fight _him_ , of all vampires?

When Lydia first arrived in Sunnydale I was still trying to defeat the Master. It wasn't long after I defeated Penn, one of the Master's main lackeys, and Lydia advised Giles that I should familiarize myself with the more powerful vampires in the Aurelian line in case the Master called on any of them.

Lydia had been adamant that if any of them would be summoned, it would be the Master's great-great-grandchilde, William the Bloody. Also known as Spike. Also known as the Slayer of Slayers.

Since being turned in the late 1800s he's killed two Slayers, along with an unconfirmed third. Whenever I wasn't dealing with what the Hellmouth usually dished out on a weekly basis Lydia was getting me to read up on everything there was to know about this vampire, though admittedly, there wasn't much. He travels with the rest of his vampire family and had last been seen somewhere in Europe. It was enough to set me at ease; that he probably wouldn't be coming to kill me in my sleep.

After the Master was defeated I forgot all about him, and everything that Lydia told me went right along with him.

Now I wish I hadn't.

I decide to bring one stake with me just in case.

It's when I'm rising to my feet that I hear the voice.

"Slayer…"

* * *

 **End Notes** : I've written up to chapter eleven of this story, and while I'll be posting the next chapter soon - because lets face it, you all want to see Spike - updates will most likely be only once (or twice) a week until I get more written. Please leave feedback!


	2. Chapter Two: Slayer of Slayers

**Chapter Notes** : I was originally going to post this tomorrow, but I got too excited about introducing Spike so I decided to post it today, instead. And for those of you who are wondering, yes, I'm planning on at least trying to update my other WIPs this month since they're challenge responses, as well.

* * *

The voice isn't menacing; not a threatening growl or a disgusted hiss, which is what I get from vampires usually. Instead the voice sounds cocky, almost playful; like we're playing a game of hide and seek, with me as the hider and him as the seeker.

Hide and seek might as well be just another name for predator and prey.

I can't tell where the voice came from. I can't hear the vampire moving around, and I can't sense him. My strength isn't the only thing that's been taken from me. It's scary realizing just how blind I am; no enhanced senses, no tingles at the back of my neck telling me when a vampire is close…

My opponent has been here the whole time, and I haven't sensed a thing. I doubt I'd be able to sense him even if he's right behind me.

So I do the first thing that comes to mind.

I run.

Slayer stealth is gone, as well; hearing how _loud_ I am makes me realize just how quiet I can usually be. On a normal day I'd be able to creep throughout this entire house without making a sound. Now my footsteps are clunky – the creaky floorboards don't help, and neither does the fact that I'm terrified out of my mind. It sounds like a herd of elephants are charging through instead of just a weakened Slayer. The vampire must be able to hear me, and yet, he doesn't appear.

Must be biding his time. Or waiting for me to stop acting like a complete moron.

When I reach the kitchen I pause to pull myself together. I'm still the Slayer, not some terrified little girl. And rule number one of being the Slayer: don't die.

I can't die, no matter what it takes. Even if that means hiding and waiting it out.

I spot one of those shaft things that usually holds those mini elevators – I can't remember what they're called, but Lydia once told me they're used to transport food to the upper levels of houses so servants don't have to carry it all up the stairs – and deciding it's as good a hiding place as any, I hurry over to it and climb inside. There isn't a button to push, but there's a rope I can pull which mercifully doesn't look like it'll snap at any moment. I begin to pull on it.

I can barely lift myself and the platform beneath me. And it makes a lot of noise.

"Slayer…"

I hear the voice again, closer this time, and added to that the tone is closer to what I usually expect from vampires hunting me; full of malice and threat, and this one sounds especially impatient. I have to get out of reach.

There's no door to close, so I quickly begin to pull harder on the rope. Adrenaline must kick in, because I move faster this time. But it's still hard work, and when I'm certain that I'm out of view I pause in order to catch my breath.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty…"

I stop panting and freeze.

It sounds like he's in the kitchen.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

I hear a crash and I flinch. Sounds like he's had a disagreement with the table.

"Come out, you bitch! I thought you wanted a fight?! Thought you wanted me as your soddin' _trophy_?! I'll show _you_ how to make a trophy kill!"

…What the _hell_ is he talking about?

"This coat I'm wearin'? Tore it off the body of the last Slayer I killed. Begged for her life, she did. Made a right show of it, concealin' that pesky death wish you Slayers seem to be so fond of havin'. Bet you have one, too. Wonder if that's why you _really_ called me here?" He chuckles. "If you wanted a fair fight, all you could've done is asked, luv."

I really, really don't know what he's talking about, so he must be delusional. And why does he have to have a stupid sexy British accent?

It won't be long before he checks out my hiding place, I realize. I glance upwards and see a faint light above me. Must be where the food is usually collected. But if I start moving this thing it'll make a noise, and then he'll know right away where I am…

I hoist myself up, leaving the platform behind as I begin to climb the rope myself. At least I can lift my own weight, even if I'm struggling a bit. I try not to gasp and pant, knowing that he'll be able to hear me with his stupid vampire hearing. But the higher I go the more I begin to struggle, and gasping for breath is something I can't prevent.

I hear a crash below me and look down. The platform has been pulled back down and the vampire's head is inside. All I can see is a head full of bleach blonde, slicked back right to the skull.

He then looks up, and I try but fail to conceal my gasp.

Vampires should _not_ be that hot.

"Get down here and fight me, Slayer!" He grabs the rope and tugs, trying to pull me down.

I yelp as I begin to swing, but by some miracle I don't lose my grip, and somehow I climb the rest of the way at record speed and crawl out onto the top floor. Moments later I hear a snap and a clatter below. He must've cut the rope.

"I'm comin' for you, Slayer!" I hear him yell up the shaft.

Realizing that I don't have long, I begin to run along the hallway in search of a place to hide. A normal guy would reach me in just under a minute. A vampire would reach me in a quarter of that time. The odds aren't in my favour.

The first door I try is a bust. It only leads to an empty room with nothing in it except another door on the other side, only it's boarded up. The second door is an old room, but again, there's nothing in it and the window has been filled in with bricks. Hearing heavy footsteps charging up the stairs I go to try a third door.

I run into something and fall backwards, blind-sighted.

Head. Hurts.

I open my eyes. Everything is blurry with dizziness, but I'm able to make out a wall of brick blocking entry into what must've been another room. I was so panicked that I didn't even notice.

Are these Watchers trying to kill me, or something?

"There you are."

My eyes widen when an arm grabs me, and I'm hauled to my feet and forcibly turned around to face my attacker.

Yeah, _really_ shouldn't be that hot. I could cut my finger on those cheekbones.

And vampires shouldn't have eyes that expressive; so _blue_ that it feels like I'm drowning in a whirlpool just by looking at them.

I wish it could be enough for me to forget that this man is a vampire, and that he's about to kill me.

I fumble for one of the crosses I have in my pockets, but just as I get it out he knocks it away. "None of that. I want a _real_ fight. Was gonna give you a personal favour and make your eventual demise quick – you wouldn't have felt a soddin' thing – but you've tested my patience. This ends now, Slayer. I'm gonna show you why they call me _Spike_."

I whimper. I can't help it, because I suddenly remember _that_ part of the research, and the thought of having something shoved through my head is terrifying. I can't imagine the pain something like that could cause.

Spike pushes me back against the wall and begins to stalk towards me like the predator he is, and with nowhere to run I do the only thing I think of.

I punch him as hard as I can in the stomach.

Of course nothing happens to him. The only pain I cause is to myself. It shoots up my arm, sharp and hot, and for a second time tonight it feels like it's broken.

I cry out and fall to my knees, cradling my arm to my chest. I must look pathetic to the watching vampire, but I don't care. It hurts so much, and I'm already gonna die. This pain is probably nothing compared to what's coming.

I'm brave enough to look back up at him, expecting a look of malice in return, or maybe one of disappointment, like the way Travers looked at me before.

But instead he looks…confused. And maybe a little bit annoyed.

"What the bloody hell was _that_ s'posed to be?!"

I take in several deep breaths as the pain begins to subside, but only slightly. It still hurts. I guess the vampire's confusion is helping a little. "It's called a punch, you moron." Calling him names probably isn't the best idea, but I've got nothing to lose. He's gonna kill me, anyway.

"Yeah, I know what a soddin' punch is," he tells me like I'm five years old. "But a punch from you should've sent me flyin' down the hall. Instead it just tickled."

"Sorry for disappointing you," I spit out. I really don't care what he thinks of me. "And if you're gonna kill me, just get on and do it. This night can't get any worse."

Unless he rapes me. Or turns me.

No, that's not right. Lydia told me that there're two things Spike doesn't do, and both are the two things that would make this night worse. No one really knows why he doesn't. He just doesn't.

But he's still gonna kill me, which isn't exactly something that'll turn my night around for the better.

"I'll kill you after you put up a fight that isn't a pathetic waste of my time," he tells me. He's more annoyed now, but the confusion is still there.

I finally attempt to pick myself up. I stumble a little, which probably doesn't help my case. "Yeah, well… You might have to come back another day if you want that. Maybe I can fit you into a slot for next week. Or maybe next year. A few decades after _never_ sounds good to me…" I look down at my hands; they're covered in rope burn, having gone unnoticed from the adrenaline, probably. There's also a small cut that's starting to ooze with blood.

He frowns. "Are you stoned, Slayer?"

"No! Just…not exactly at the top of my game tonight…" I know I shouldn't be telling him this, but for some reason this vampire wants a fight. A fight, as in, me hitting him back and giving him all I've got. Maybe if he realizes I can't fight back he'll wait until I can…

"Top of your…" He trails off when his eyes zone in on the cut on my hand, and before I can protest or even cry out in shock, he crosses the short space between us at lightning speed, takes my hand in his and licks the blood off.

I yank my hand back. He lets me; if he wanted to keep hold of me then I wouldn't have been able to pull it back at all. "Gross!"

But he's not listening. Instead his eyebrows are knotted together and his mouth is moving in that way a mouth does when it contains an unusual taste. Does my blood really taste that weird? The Master called it the finest wine; something all vampires crave.

Judging by Spike's reaction, I'd call it a mildly satisfying champagne.

"Poison…" His eyes meet mine, his deep blue eyes hypnotic. I wonder if he has a thrall. "How old are you?"

I blink, thrown by the question. Why would he want to know how old I am? "I…I turn eighteen tomorrow. Which is in a few hours, I guess…"

Suddenly Spike rolls his eyes and turns away from me. "Bollocks! Should've known something was up!" He kicks at the wall and the fragile plaster breaks, leaving a hole behind. "Should've bloody known! Capturin' me for a trophy, my arse. Slayers don't have the ego for it! They're all about bein' a hero; the saviour complex, the martyr act. Wouldn't catch and kill a vamp just to explode their rep…"

What the hell? "Huh?"

He looks back at me. "Looks like we've _both_ been set up, pet. Watchers told me that you asked them to catch me, so you could kill me and increase your rep. Wouldn't have agreed to it if I'd known it was a soddin' Cruciamentum."

"Cru-shi-mental-what?"

"Cruciamentum," he corrects me. "They knew I wouldn't have gone along with it. That's why they sold me the story they did."

I just stare at him. "Look, I don't wanna invoke the stereotype of the dumb blonde girl, but you're not making a heck of a lot of sense. What is this…long word I can't pronounce so I won't bother to try?"

"It's supposedly a rite of passage a Slayer is given by her Watcher," he explains. "On her eighteenth a Slayer is weakened and set up against a foe she has to defeat. That's what they _tell_ the Slayer, anyway…"

My heart sinks. "Oh. They already told me that – about a minute before they dragged me in here against my will. Until then I thought I was just… I was asking Giles what was wrong with me, and he said he didn't know when he _did_ … He said he didn't have a choice, but… Why would he do this to me? He…he was supposed to be the one who didn't betray me, especially after Dad bailed, and then he goes and betrays me worse… And on top of everything else in my life this is the crowning moment of suckage…"

I don't realize I'm crying until my breath hitches, and I don't care if I'm crying in front of the vampire who wants to kill me. It doesn't matter anymore.

My life is a mess. From that moment on the front steps of Hemery High when I was fifteen, everything has been a mess. It's just been getting worse, no matter what I tell myself. Now I've finally hit rock bottom, the lowest I can sink to, and I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of holding it all in. I'm tired of being strong.

I end up against the brick wall behind me and slide down, my legs no longer strong enough to hold me up. My life can't get any worse than this.

"Just end it."

I wait for him to pull me up again. I wait for him to sink his fangs into my neck, or even just snap it. I really don't care what he does to me now.

But what he does is the last thing I expected.

He sits down next to me and says, "Callin' a truce. Have a feelin' this is gonna be a long night…"


	3. Chapter Three: Life Story

**Chapter Notes** : So this is where the different back stories are explained, or at least, Buffy's is. There'll still be some bits revealed later on, but the bulk of it will be here.

* * *

My eyes widen as I turn to stare at him, unable to believe what he's just said. "What?"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't make a thing outta it. Just prefer a fair fight. It's why I never would've agreed to this test if they'd asked, and you're not exactly fit enough to give me a fight we both deserve."

"We both…" This is throwing me for a loop. The loop has been thrown a mile away. "Wait, what? I was told that vampires always go for the kill, no matter what."

He scoffs. "Reason the Council told you that? They don't know jack shit. Well, I s'pose they know _something_ , else they wouldn't have lasted for as long as they have. But they've put it in your head that we vampires are the same. We're not. I go for the kill, but I prefer to have a decent fight beforehand, unless I'm just peckish and need some fast food real quick. But neck deep in a fight I could either win or lose…" He looks ahead of him almost wishfully. "That's what makes a kill worth it. 'Course Angelus never saw it that way."

"But why do you fight if you don't know you're gonna win?" I ask curiously.

"Not knowin' if you're gonna win is what makes it fun." He shrugs. "Prefer to fight worthy opponents. That's why I go after Slayers; one girl in all the world who has the strength and skill to fight against us. The one person who's our equal in every way; the light to our dark. Most vamps run from Slayers. I seek them out."

"You killed two," I say. "One in the Boxer Rebellion in China. The other in New York during the seventies. They say there was a third during World War II." He looks down and I decide not to ask. He's not killing me, and I'd like to keep it that way. I need to follow rule number one, even if that means distracting him by talking. "So…what do you wanna talk about?" I ask. I feel my courage starting to build again. "You're sat next to me, so clearly you wanna talk and not…do the thing you're supposed to do. Unless you kill Slayers by talking them to death."

"No, I'm not gonna kill you," he says. "It's like I said; you're not at full strength and I'd prefer to fight you when you are. If what I've heard about you is true then you'll be one hell of a fight."

"Then why not seek me out before?"

"Dru wouldn't allow it." He shakes his head. "And Angelus makes a point of avoidin' Hellmouths. Doesn't like the competition."

Dru. Angelus. They're the other members of the Whirlwind; the Scourge of Europe. There's a fourth as well, but I can't remember her name. "Then ditch them."

"Could've done…" He looks ahead again, only not as wishfully this time. Then he turns back to me. "So what's your story?"

He wants to talk about me? He's the guy who's lived for over a century. He'll have much more interesting stories than me. And oh god, I'm actually trapped inside a house with a vampire who's killed two Slayers – possibly three – I can't defend myself, and all we're doing is _talking_?

Forget about it being the worst birthday ever. This is the weirdest.

 _He's_ weird.

"Where do you want me to start?" I ask. I might as well just roll with the weird. Things could be a hell of a lot worse, after all.

"Skip the trivial stuff and get to when you were called," he replies.

I shrug. Yeah, a Slayer killer would want to know the Slayer parts of my life. Normal girl Buffy would probably bore him to death. "I grew up in LA." I decide to set the scene in order to give him some background. "I was pretty normal; Mom, Dad, little sister, friends… I attended school, went shopping, talking about boys, and all that other girl stuff. I was…well, I was pretty shallow. Cheerleading, short skirts, bad grades… Life was perfect, at least I pretended that it was. Mom and Dad were always arguing about one thing or another. I played my music loud so I couldn't hear them. I pretended that nothing was wrong and life was all good."

I glance at him to see if he's bored yet. He's just listening. "Go on."

"Anyway," I continue, "all that changed one day when I was fifteen. I was sat outside on the steps waiting to meet a boy. Tyler. He was cute. I thought playing hard to get would work with him. But instead of Tyler this really old guy walks up to me. He says that I need to come quickly, there's not a lot of time, yada-yada-yada. I thought he was crazy when he started talking about vampires, saying that it's my sacred destiny to kill him. I thought someone was pulling a prank. I was a freshman; it happens. But then he asked if I was having dreams and if I was stronger than usual, and since I could tick both those boxes, I started to get suspicious. So he takes me out into a cemetery and we wait by this new grave. It was a long wait, and I almost walked away, but then a hand punched through the dirt and my life changed forever."

"So they didn't find you before," says Spike. "Before you were called, I mean. That's the usual drill; track down Potentials before they're called, slowly introduce them to our world and train them so they're ready once they're called."

I shrug. "Merrick – that was his name – says that sometimes girls slip under the radar. I was one of those girls. Would've helped had I been trained. I couldn't even stake the stupid fledge first go. Merrick wouldn't let me out again until I improved, and that was only the beginning. Life… It just got worse. If my grades were bad before, then what they became was something to write home about _twice_. I got kicked off the cheer squad, Tyler dumped me for my best friend, she and all my other friends ditched me, and my parents started to use my newfound delinquency as another excuse to argue. And that gave Dawn – my sister – an excuse to act even more like a brat. The only good thing that came out of it was Pike; I rescued him from a vamp trying to bite him. He was my first boyfriend."

"Didn't last long, I wager."

"Not for the reasons you're thinking of." I sigh. "I didn't think things could get any worse until some creepy old vampire called Lothos arrived and started stalking me."

"Lothos?" Spike's voice is filled with disgust.

"I take it he's not a friend of yours."

He scoffs, turning away. "The opposite. He gives us _real_ Slayer-killers a bad name. He goes after the newly called, usin' thralls to kill them. It's cowardly." Then he frowns and turns to me again. "Wait, don't tell me _you_ finally did him in?"

"It took me a while, but yep." I look down. "But not before he killed Merrick. He tried to turn him, and Merrick shot himself in the head to stop him. I was there. I _watched_. I wanted to give it up after that, but then Lothos attacked Prom and I had to save everyone. But even after I staked him there were too many vampires and I couldn't let them escape, so…I burnt down the gym."

Spike stares at me.

And then he laughs.

"You _torched_ the place? Bloody brilliant! If only I'd been there. Sounded like a good ol' time."

"Yeah? That 'good old time'," I try to imitate his accent and he scowls, but there's no malice behind it and it's almost playful, "got me kicked out. Pike wasn't allowed to see me again 'cause Mom thought he was a bad influence on me. And it was the final nail in the coffin of my parents' marriage."

"Doubt their marriage was all down to you, pet," he says. "It's between them."

"Mom insisted that it wasn't my fault," I admit. "And they _were_ arguing before. But…I always thought they'd be able to work through it. But then I started causing trouble and things between them got worse. It can't be a coincidence." He doesn't say anything to that, so I continue. "Sunnydale High was the only school that would take me, so we moved here in order to start over. I hoped that I'd be able to forget about slaying altogether…until I met my new Watcher and he told me that I now live on top of a Hellmouth. Someone upstairs really hates me."

"Can't be _that_ bad," he says.

"Guess not." I shrug. "I did get some awesome new friends; Willow and Xander are the best. And now there's Oz, too – he's Willow's boyfriend – and I guess Cordelia could count – she and Xander dated until they broke up a couple of months ago. And I met Owen." I smile at the memory of his dreamy eyes and lovelorn smile when we bumped into each other at the library for the first time.

"Spare me the details." Spike looks like he's going to gag.

I roll my eyes. "I'm a teenage girl. Cut me some slack." I sigh again. "Despite all the good, the Master really tried to ruin things."

"But you killed him for it."

"Not before he killed me." At Spike's raised eyebrow I elaborate. "He drank my blood in order to escape his prison, but he didn't drink all of it and instead dropped me in a puddle. I drowned, but Xander gave me CPR and I'm alive again. Owen felt guilty for a long time after that; he was there but he didn't know CPR… But anyway, I came back and I killed the Master. The stupid Anointed One tried to bring him back later, but I stopped that, too."

"And good on you," says Spike. His words surprise me. "Never did like ol' Batface, and I only met him the one time. He was Darla's sire." Darla. That was the name of the fourth. "She screamed bloody murder when you offed him. Wanted to come here and teach you a lesson. Angelus wouldn't let her. Their spat lasted _weeks_." He rolls his eyes. "I'm surprised he didn't want to come here anyway, since I wager you're the one who offed his childe, Penn, as well."

"Angelus was Penn's sire?"

"Made him in his own image."

"I killed him 'cause he almost killed Mom," I say. "He would've finished the job had I not reached her in time. It was horrible. Dawn was screaming, Mom's head was in a pool of blood on the floor… I staked him with her cooking spoon. I had to tell them both everything after that. I didn't do it sooner because I thought she'd ship me off to the looney house, but after that… I wanted them to be safe, and Mom's a nice woman. She'd let anyone in the house if she thought they needed help. And according to Mom, Penn was really convincing."

"Good riddance. Never liked him."

"Do you like _anyone_?"

"Maybe Dru. She's my sire, after all. But after a hundred years of bein' second best to her dear daddy…" He shakes his head. "It's not important. What happened after you killed the Master?"

"I killed the Anointed One, which was hard, because he was in the body of a child," I explain. "I didn't really get the chance to do it until after summer vacation, and then a new Slayer rolled into town. Her name was Faith."

"New Slayer?"

"I technically died," I tell him. "So she was called. We didn't know about it until then. She was like me; no one found her until her calling, and she had to be trained. But she had some skills already; she hung out with a rough crowd. When she came she didn't have a Watcher, and it was only until after Giles made some calls that we found out that her Watcher had been killed. She was being hunted by a vampire we thought was only fictional."

He groans. "Don't tell me you had a run in with soddin' _Dracula_."

"You know him?"

"We're old rivals. Bugger owes me eleven quid."

I bite my lip. "Yeah…you won't be getting that back."

His eyes widen. "You _killed_ him? _No one_ kills him! How'd you do it?"

"He brought it on himself – by pissing me off."

"And how'd he do that?"

I look down. "He followed Faith to Sunnydale. He wanted her as one of his many brides, but when he met me he decided that he wanted the both of us. He probably would've turned us both had Miss Calendar not intervened."

"Who?"

"She was a computer teacher at our school," I explain. "She and Giles had a thing, and she was actually a Romani gypsy who was sent by her clan to help us stop Dracula."

"Almost ate a clan of Romani gypsies once," says Spike. "But Dru got these visions that they'd take her daddy away, so we decided to skip it."

"Visions?"

"She has the Sight."

"Oh." I continue, "With Dracula on our backs things got harder. Faith was always guilty about bringing him here. Lydia helped her with that, and likewise Faith helped Lydia ease up. She was, like, _really_ British and stuff. She made Giles look laid back by comparison."

"Lydia was the other Slayer's new Watcher?" I nod. "That wouldn't be Lydia Chalmers, would it?"

My eyes widen a little. "You know her?"

"Long story. Might tell it to you if we've got time."

I'd love to hear _that_ story. "Anyway, with more vamp attacks courtesy of Dracula, things started getting tense. Owen and I started to lean on each other. I…I fell in love with him. And then the night before my birthday we agreed to…well, you know."

"Have sex?"

I nod. "We were going to. But then Dracula found out. Apparently he has a thing for virgin brides, so…" I turn away to hide the tear that escapes my eye.

"He killed your boy."

I nod again. "It was a year ago tonight. I…I had to cremate him in case Dracula turned him. Then I had to look his parents in the eyes, knowing that it was my fault that their son was dead… It was the worst day of my life. And then Dracula had to make it worse a week later and killed Miss Calendar. It was the final straw. Giles lost himself in rage and attacked Dracula. I joined him. We were able to cut his head off and keep the dust of that away from the dust of his body. Then we poured Holy water all over said dust, then poured gasoline and set it alight. Then whatever was left we put in jars – one for the head, one for the rest – and separated them. One is at the Watchers Council headquarters in England. The other is somewhere in China."

"Would say that was overkill but it's soddin' _Dracula_."

I shrug. "Things were quiet for a while…until it officially became the worst year ever when Faith accidentally killed the Mayor. She thought he was a demon and cut off his head. Turns out he was only a dark mage practising black magic. Still bad – and he was the reason that demons were running rampant – but also human. Faith was already guilty about Owen and Jenny; she thought that if she'd stayed away then they wouldn't have died. And with this adding to her guilt…it was too much for her. She lost it and put a bullet in her head. Lydia still isn't over it."

"Some year."

"And that wasn't even the last of it," I tell him. "During the last few weeks of school these two vampires showed up; James and Elisabeth. They were… Well, I have to say it, they were kinda cute together. Really in love. Up until then Giles kept telling me that vampires can't love; there's no love without the soul. But they proved him wrong."

"'Course we can love," says Spike. "Maybe not well or wisely, or in the same way you humans do, but we can."

"The Council only say that so a Slayer doesn't hesitate to kill," I explain. "Which I get. They may've been able to love, but they were still evil. Elisabeth kidnapped some kids from the Bronze, and Willow and Xander were among them. I followed her and staked her right before she was about to kill Willow. I didn't have a choice. But James… He went crazy vengeful. Around the same time this happened some guys at the museum dug up a stone demon called Acathla; he had this sword in him, and if the sword was pulled out, then he'd open a portal to Hell and the world would be sucked in. James took it and planned to open it. I stopped him before he could."

"It's amazin' what grief can do," says Spike. "I can make you weak but it can also make you strong."

I look down. "I wasn't grieving for Owen at the time that happened. I'd already done my grieving. Thing is, before he died I swore that I loved him. I felt it. But after he died and in the months that followed… The pain went away, and I realized that I didn't love him as much as I thought I did. There were feelings, but it wasn't an 'eternal soulmates' kind of thing, even though it felt like it at the time. Mom told me that a first love is only a person's first reaction to those feelings of love; it's never meant to last."

"Got that right." Spike nods. "Back when I was alive there was this girl. I thought I loved her. But she broke my heart, and lookin' back on it I realize that it wasn't love; I merely idolized her, 'cause I thought she was perfect. I loved the idea of her."

"Ideals of what love should be can get in the way of what love is," I say. "Mom told me that. But…I don't think a Slayer is meant to fall in love. When senior year started I tried dating this other guy. His name was Scott. I thought he really liked me. But then he dumped me – a few days before Homecoming, if you can believe it, the jerk. I get the feeling that I'll never be able to love someone again, because it shouldn't feel like what it did with Owen, but then if it doesn't, what should it feel like? Mom says that we never fall in love the same way twice…but love is so complicated that I don't even _want_ to do it a second time."

"You shouldn't give up," says Spike. "Love – the true love we all hope to find – is something that comes along once in a lifetime. We may think we find it sometimes, we may even settle for something less, but we shouldn't give up. Life is short for you regular folk, and what's the point in wastin' it by being alone? As for us vamps, we've got an eternity, and there's no point if we spend it alone. Without love, life doesn't have a purpose."

That's…insanely deep, coming from a vampire. Looking at him now I can almost forget that he _is_ one. He just looks so…human. It's in his expressions, his body language, in the way he talks; all of it screams 'life'. It's definitely weird, but I can't decide whether or not to go for 'unsettling' or 'comforting'.

He lets out a sigh – why does he need to breathe? – before he climbs to his feet. He holds out a hand towards me, which I hesitantly take and he pulls me up with him.

"So, ready to blow this joint?"


	4. Chapter Four: Escape

**Chapter Notes** : Fair warning, this is mostly just a filler chapter. I need to get Buffy and Spike from Point A to Point B, and that's what happens in this one. To make up for it I should hopefully be posting the next chapter (in which a lot more happens) within the next two days.

* * *

With the amount of times Spike has surprised me tonight, this shouldn't have been anything different. But it is, because I still can't believe that this vampire isn't killing me, despite being famous for killing my predecessors. It goes against everything I've been taught.

Spike is like no vampire I've ever met. And he'd probably be proud to admit it.

"We're leaving?" I manage to ask.

"Probably for the best, before the Council of Wankers come to check on us," he explains. "Liable to stake me if they do. As for you…" He looks me up and down, but whatever he was going to say dies on his lips and he shakes his head. "Never mind. Doubt you're ready for that."

"Ready for what?"

"Doesn't matter," he continues. "I'm gettin' out of here, whether you're comin' with me or not. Places to be, stakes to avoid and all that rot."

Am I a bad Slayer for wanting him gone so he doesn't get staked? 'Cause I don't want anyone staking him. It's wrong, but in the short time we've known each other, he's grown on me. It's like some weird twisted version of Stockholm Syndrome, which probably isn't even the right word for it because Spike isn't the one holding me against my will, but it's sort of the same if you really think about it.

I'm trapped with him. He may or may not want to kill me once I get my full strength back. And somehow he's wiggled his way onto my list of people who I don't hate. I can put him in the place where Giles used to be.

"I'll come," I tell him. "I don't wanna face the music. But how are we gonna get out of here? The Watchers made pretty damn sure that there's no escape. Granted I didn't take the time to explore before you started chasing me, but they would've made sure I couldn't get out."

"You'd be surprised what people like them could miss." He's looking around and wearing a thinking face, and how do I already know what his thinking face looks like? "Was there a chimney in this place?"

"I'm not sure," I reply. "Maybe. In the room where Lydia left a bag for me." He nods and heads over to the stairs. I follow and we descend them together. "Are you gonna tell me how you know my Principal?"

"She's a Principal now?"

"She took the role after our last Principal was killed," I explain. "He was eaten by hyena-possessed kids. It wasn't a pretty picture." At least Xander wasn't among the group that ate him. Oh no, he was too busy trying to rape me…

Which he doesn't even remember, so I shouldn't hold it against him.

"Livin' in this town sounds like fun," says Spike. We reach the bottom of the stairs and he leads me into the room where the bag still remains. There's a chimney after all, and he crosses the room to get a closer look.

"Sunshine, cheap housing, and someone trying to end the world every Tuesday. Brings the kids." It's amazing how people still _live_ in this town.

Spike sticks his head inside the chimney, which is a little ironic because a chimney is where there's usually a fire, and vampires aren't exactly fire-proof, but I don't comment as I watch. He pulls his head back out with a satisfied grin. "The bastards didn't think of that. The chimney isn't blocked. We should be able to climb out and onto the roof."

"Wouldn't they be able to see us?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Doubt it. Can hear them talkin' out front. Part of the roof should block their view. And it's dark. Unless we make a racket, we'll be fine."

"Even so, I don't think I'll be able to make the climb," I tell him. "My hands hurt enough already, and I only made it before because there was a rope. Now there'll be barely anything."

"The chimney's wide enough. You can hop on my back and I'll carry you up," Spike suggests. "It'll be a bloody piece of cake."

I find myself instinctively taking a step back. Spike's still a vampire, no matter what's happened between us over the past hour, and I'm not exactly ready to trust him like that yet. "Maybe I could stay here. They won't kill me."

I see Spike do a funny thing with his mouth, like he wants to tell me something but is restraining himself, and I don't dare ask what's on his mind. If he's not telling me, then I probably won't want to hear it. "Already said I'm not gonna kill you. And even if I was, I wouldn't kill you like this; let you fall. That's not how you kill a Slayer."

He has a point. He's already made a big deal out of fighting me to the death, so why would he change his mind now? And I doubt a fall like that would kill me; maybe break several bones in my current state, all of which would heal once my powers come back, but it wouldn't kill me unless I landed on my neck.

I can trust him. How has my life got to this point, when I'm placing my trust in a vampire after losing the trust of my Watcher?

If the idea wasn't so outlandish, I'd consider Spike as a replacement Watcher. He's British too, so it makes sense.

I step forwards. "OK. How are we gonna do this?"

"You hop on my back and hold on while I do all the work," he explains. "Wager you can manage your own weight." I nod and he goes to turn around, but doubles back to me and says, "You know who _I_ am, but I never caught _your_ name."

"It's Buffy," I tell him.

He smirks. "Really? You're not pullin' my leg, or anything?"

I fold my arms across my chest. "What's wrong with my name?"

"Oh, nothin'." He turns his head and I hear him choke on a short laugh. "Highly original name. Did your mum have any help comin' up with a name like that? I hear a bottle of jack really gets the brain stimulated…"

"Fine. Make jokes at the expense of the weakened Slayer." I glare, but I don't really mean it. Somehow I know he's just trying to lighten the mood a little, and when I really think about it, my name _is_ a little ridiculous. "Think you can get away with it just because my punches tickle you…"

"I'm sure you'll break my nose for the jab once you're at full strength." Spike turns and stays that way, and I hop onto his back. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

"This OK?"

"Fine, luv. Hold on." With that he ducks into the fire place, looks up and begins to climb.

* * *

I don't hold my breath because I'm worried that we might get caught. I hold my breath because Spike's scent is _really_ starting to affect me, and not in the good way.

It's a mixture of leather, smoke and blood; a combination that on paper would turn me off, but in real life actually turns me _on_. And being so close to him… Well, I really hope he's not paying attention to my heartbeat, and if he is, I hope he thinks it's because of the climbing-up-the-chimney-thing and not the I-maybe-might-be-sorta-attracted-to-him-thing.

But it's not my fault. It should be illegal for vampires to look as hot as him. Maybe the Council can bring in a new law.

Thankfully there's no trouble when we reach the top, and we climb out and down the side of the house without being spotted. Spike continues to carry me on his back as we enter the woods in the surrounding area, probably an attempt to circle around to further down the road without the Watchers spotting us. And I get why he's still carrying me, because if he puts me down then I'll probably trip or make lots of noise, which _so_ wouldn't be of the good right now, because the Watchers would definitely investigate the Buffy-like cry coming from a place that's _not_ the inn.

He carries me until we come out onto the road, far enough away from the inn and the Watchers waiting to see if I triumph or die. I slide off his back, and part of me expects him to take off into the night, but he doesn't, and he walks beside me down the road towards town. We're not walking as fast as I normally would because, hello, lack of Slayer powers here, and I want to tell him that we'd move faster if he carried me again, but I'm too nervous to ask.

"Would make the trip quicker if I still had my car," says Spike, breaking the silence between us.

We must be far enough away so that no one can hear us. "You have a car?"

"Used to," he says. "1959 DeSoto. Got it the year it was made. My pride and joy – until after I killed Nikki Wood, and Angelus got so jealous that he wrecked my baby just to get his own back. Bloody prick."

"What is it with men and their cars?" I ask. "Dad got himself a new car, but I always thought that was part of his midlife crisis. Xander and Oz obsess over them. Even Giles loves his old dinosaur."

"Women don't appreciate fine machinery."

"We do so! We appreciate the fine machinery of the…sewing machines that make all our clothes." Yeah, that's really not helping my case.

He chuckles. "Won't hold it against you, luv. And I don't believe in all that stereotype rot. I admire a woman who can rip off a head with her bare hands. It's magnificent."

"And I'm thinking _eww_."

His eyebrow rises. "Don't tell me you haven't ripped off the head of a vamp in order to kill it?"

"I have," I tell him, "but I get the feeling you weren't thinking about ripping off the heads of other vamps."

"Vamps and demons." At my questioning look he shrugs. "Why would I – or any other vamp for that matter – rip off the heads of humans? Not even Angelus does that, and he's the master of line-crossin'. If there's a line, he'll cross it just to show the line he _can_. Think the only reason he hasn't done the heads thing yet is 'cause he likes to get creative. Head-rippin' is more brutality."

"I vote to change the subject before I barf."

"A Slayer who barfs at the evils of the world. We're doomed." He looks away and obviously misses the glare I send his way. "Though to be fair, there're some things he's done that I'll never agree with. He gives the term 'evil monster' a definition, and then he goes out and does something worse and the whole bloody scale is thrown into whack. There was this one time… Well, I won't go into details 'cause you'll never sleep again, but even Darla didn't know how to respond, and she soddin' _made_ him."

"Subject. Change. Please." I really don't want to hear this right now, when I've lost my powers and know that I can't fight back against someone like Angelus. It doesn't matter that he's not here; hearing about him leads to the thought of what would've happened had the Council locked me up with him instead of Spike…

Thankfully Spike gets the message. "Right." They're buildings around us now, meaning that we're heading into town. "Lead the way."

I'm not really sure I want to show Spike where I live, but again, he's made it clear what he wants from me, and he doesn't seem like the kind of vamp who would kill me in my sleep. Plus, there's the fact that he can't even get inside my house without an invite, and that's something Mom doesn't give out to a whole lot of people who visit us at night.

"We're not far now," I tell him.

He nods. "Think we can make a stop along the way? I'm feelin' a bit peckish."

OK, seriously? "Don't you dare even _think_ about eating someone! You won't get away with it just because I can't stop you! This town still has a Slayer at full power, you know." Though I feel a little guilty that I'm not worried about my sister Slayer or the populace – I'm worried that Spike will give me an excuse to stake him.

"Thought the other girl died?"

"And when she did another girl was chosen," I tell him. "Her name's Kendra. She should be around here somewhere."

"Right." He turns to look ahead again. "Didn't mean that, by the by. I'm not completely daft, you know. Just thought we could stop off at the butcher's."

"Oh." I warm a little at the thought of him going out of his way to get blood from somewhere that isn't a human body, though he must have his reasons which aren't 'doing it for me'. "The butcher is really out of the way; we'd have to double back in order to go home. Can you wait?"

"Could." He shrugs. "Just that the Watchers haven't fed me in a while. I'm starved."

I draw to a halt and turn to face him. "Wait… So you mean to tell me…that you haven't been fed…and you _still_ didn't eat me?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's called havin' self-control, luv. It's something I pride myself for. A vamp needs it if he's gonna survive. And the fight you'll surely give me is worth more than usin' you as a quick snack."

OK, that makes sense, but…it still must take a hell of a lot of control not to bite me. Giles always said that vampires are driven by blood lust and nothing else – other than committing evil, maybe.

But I don't think I'll be listening to Giles in a long time. His betrayal – and meeting Spike – makes me wonder what else he's told me that's a complete lie.

Spike doesn't ask me again about getting some blood, and we continue home. I begin to relax when we enter Revello Drive, and it grows the closer we get to my house. By the time we've reach number 1630 I'm feeling as cool as a cucumber.

Why is it 'cool as a cucumber' anyway? Cucumbers are kept in the fridge, but they're not that cold. Why isn't it 'cool as ice cream' or 'cool as frozen yogurt'?

"Well, this is my stop," I tell him. Then realizing how that must sound – like we've just been on a date – I add, "As in, this is my house. Where I live. Which I'll be entering. And you'll be continuing on your way to wherever you need to go. Thanks for walking me home." I cringe. Yeah, that doesn't sound like 'after date' talk at all. "I mean…thanks for…not eating me, and…helping me get out of there…and for making sure nothing else eats me…and I'm starting to sound like a total moron now, so feel free to stop me…"

He chuckles. "The poison should wear off in a few days. Possibly around Sunday. Might start to get some of it back tomorrow. I'll be seein' you."

"So you're staying?" The thought _really_ shouldn't be giving me the warm fuzzy feelings. I should be feeling anything but.

"Might as well." He shrugs. "Was brought here to fight a Slayer. I'm gonna do it _my_ way; on my own terms. Why else do you think I've kept you alive?"

"Oh, I don't know. You've only mentioned it a couple dozen times." Because he wants to fight me when I'm at my full strength. He wants a fair fight, not a mercy killing. For a vampire with his reputation, it makes sense that's what he wants. But he's still a vampire, and the fact that he's actually got some honour is confusing, but welcoming.

I feel a surge of disappointment, which catches me off guard. I'm actually upset that all he wants to do is fight me. I know it's what I should expect, but I can't help the feeling. Despite being a vampire, I like talking with him. I don't know whether to wig at the fact that I like talking to a _vampire_ , or the fact that I'm feeling this way after having only known him for a single night.

He goes to say something else, but is interrupted by the sudden familiar voice calling out, "Buffy? Is that you?"

We both turn towards the front door – how did we end up half way up the path? – and there's Mom, standing in the open door looking both worried and relieved.

"Mom." I'm not sure what else I can say. I was so certain earlier tonight that I wouldn't see her again…

"It's getting late," she tells me. "I was worried. I know you can handle yourself, but…" Her eyes travel to Spike and she blinks, having seemingly just noticed him for the first time. "Who's this?"

Great, how am I gonna answer that? 'Mom, meet Spike; the vampire who my Watcher set up to kill me and who may still want to kill me.' I don't think that'll go down well. "Oh…this is…um… Doesn't matter. I'm…really tired, and I just wanna go to sleep…"

"Your hands!" she gasps. I look down and realize that I've unintentionally revealed the rope burn marks to her. I flip them over, hiding them from her view. "Buffy, what's going on?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm in a rope climbing competition and Spike's been training me?"

She sends me a 'yeah right' look. I hate that she's been a lot less gullible since I told her about all this. "Buffy." She then turns to the vampire beside me. "And…Spike, was it?"

He nods. "Call me William if you prefer."

Since when are vampires polite? Especially to the Slayer's mother, of all people? "OK, um…what happened was…"

"Why don't you come inside and tell me?" She turns to Spike. "You can come in, too."

"Mom!" I resist the urge to face-palm, mostly because it'll aggravate the burns on my hands. When she sends me a questioning look, I decide to just come right out and say it. "Spike's a vampire."


	5. Chapter Five: Meet the Family

**Chapter Notes** : For those of you who are wondering about Dawn, she's not the Key in this fic. I wanted Spike to have good interactions with Buffy's family, and in canon season three that's limited to just Joyce. With Dawn, there's more family goodness.

* * *

"A Slayer with a family. That wasn't in the soddin' brochure."

"The Watchers gave you a brochure?" I ask as I take a seat next to Spike. I can't imagine a Sunnydale brochure being all that exciting unless they mention the high mortality rate and the town's very own Hellmouth.

He shakes his head. "Was a bit too busy bein' tied up to read it if they had." His eyes fall upon the flowers still sat on the island from last night. "This a birthday present?"

"More like a birthday apology." Not caring about the state of my hands, I lean over and slide the flowers across the work surface until they fall into the bin on the other side. "My dad was supposed to take me to this ice show in LA. It's a birthday tradition. This year he decided to bail on me. Maybe it's because I was so miserable last year…"

"I told your father what had happened," says Mom. She's stood at the stove in the process of making us hot chocolate. It's weird that she's not wigging out more at the fact that there's a vampire in our house, but when Spike told her that he had no intention of killing us in our sleep, she let him in. It's either good judge of character or bad vamp sense. You can never tell with Mom. "He said he didn't have a problem with it."

"Maybe he was just hiding that he did…" I sigh and go to rest my chin in my hands, but wince and sit up straight when I touch my burn marks. Spike slides the first aid kit – which Mom got out – to me, and I send him a look of thanks.

I can't help but wonder what would've happened had Dad taken me to the ice show tonight. Would Giles have stopped me from going?

Mom takes out three mugs from the cupboard before she addresses Spike. "I don't have any, um…blood for you."

"That's fine," he tells her with a polite smile. Seriously, this 'vampire politeness' thing is really wigging me out. It so doesn't fit with the bad boy punk rocker image he's got going on. "Hot chocca will be fine for now. I'll visit the butcher's later tonight."

"Are they even open this late?" I ask as I put some cream on my burns.

He scoffs. "In a town like this, I'd be surprised if they _aren't_."

Does that mean there are other vampires out there who prefer to buy their blood? It shouldn't surprise me, but it does. Spike already mentioned that vampires need self-control in order to survive, so maybe these hypothetical vampires get their blood the legal way instead of killing and getting me on their case. I've seen plenty of vamps in _Willy's_ , all of whom I've never come across while patrolling.

"If it's closed, then there's this place called _Willy's_ ," I tell him. "It's a demon bar. They serve blood there. I think it's animal blood with some donated human blood."

"Thanks ever so." He pauses then, and I watch as his eyes shift to their corners before looking back at me. "We've got company," he whispers, before jerking his head slightly to the doorway.

I turn in time to see Dawn peeking her head around the corner, and she gasps and hides when she realizes that she's been caught. I sigh. "Dawn, come out."

At my words Mom turns away from the strove in time to see Dawn appear again. "Dawn, it's late. What are you still doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," she says. "And I heard you making hot chocolate, so…"

Mom sighs, but she doesn't send Dawn back upstairs and takes out a fourth mug from the cupboard. Dawn smiles and takes a seat opposite me. I'd prefer it if she's not present to hear what I have to say, but I guess she's seen and heard worse.

Her eyes zone in on my hands, which I'm in the process of wrapping in bandages. "What happened to you?" Then she turns to look a Spike, blushes a little and looks away again quickly. "And who's the guy in the cool leather coat?"

"Name's Spike," he says, and he sends Dawn this adorable little smile that makes her blush even more. It's not a flirty smile, so I can stop worrying about him making moves on my underage sister. It was bad enough when Dracula did it.

A man making moves on any underage girl is wrong.

Mom finishes the hot chocolate and places three mugs in the centre of the island. She then places a bag of marshmallows down next to them, which Dawn eagerly helps herself to. After Dawn has smothered her drink in the little pink and white blobs and I've taken some, Spike sprinkles a few on his own drink, which catches me off guard. The big bad vampire likes marshmallows? And while I'm on the subject, he likes _hot chocolate_?

"I didn't think vamps could drink anything other than blood?" I ask him. I go to wrap my hands around my mug like I usually do, but I flinch away in sudden reminder that warmth against burns, even rope burns, isn't such a good idea.

He shrugs. "Blood's the only thing that we need to survive. Doesn't mean we can't enjoy a good cuppa."

Dawn looks between us with slowly growing panic in her eyes. "Wait…he's a vampire?"

"Not here to hurt you, nibblet," Spike assures her. "Was walkin' big sis home and you mum invited me in."

My little sister frowns. "So why haven't you eaten her?"

"I would like that question answered, as well." Mom takes a seat next to Dawn with her own mug. "What happened tonight, Buffy?"

I sigh. I know I can't put this off. Mom needs to know, and maybe Dawn does as well. "I was…I… I think I should start of by saying that currently, my powers are gone."

Both look shocked. "You're not the Slayer anymore?" Dawn asks. At this question Mom looks a little hopeful, which makes sense. Both times a new Slayer has arrived in town – first with Faith and then with Kendra – she asked me if I wanted to give up being the Slayer and let them take over. She tries to be understanding about my calling, but doesn't want me in danger. She doesn't want me getting hurt.

I get that. I really do. And when she questioned me about it part of me wanted to agree with her; part of me wanted to give up being the Slayer and live a normal life. But I know that can't happen. I know about what's really out there, and that knowledge will never go away. I would never be able to sleep, knowing the night is full of dangers and that people could be killed if I'm not around to defend them. I told Mom as such both times.

Maybe now she thinks that with my powers gone, I really _can_ give it up.

But I shake my head. "It's only temporary. I didn't…I didn't know what was happening to me. I felt so helpless, even against normal humans. Maybe that's because I'm so used to my strength, but… I was so scared. We couldn't find any answers until…"

"Until what, honey?"

I close my eyes. "I was out tonight when Giles picked me up. He took me to the old Sunnydale Arms. I didn't know why and he wouldn't say outright… When we got there we were met by Lydia and Wesley and the head of the Watchers Council, Quentin Travers. He told me what was going on. I was given a suppressant."

Spike scoffs. "A bloody _poison_ is more like it."

"You were poisoned?" Mom does _not_ look happy. "By who?"

She's really not gonna like my answer. "Giles."

Mom stares at me in shock, and so does Dawn. "He… _what?_ "

I hurry on. "It's a test a Slayer is given on her eighteenth birthday. Called the…the…"

"Cruciamentum," Spike supplies helpfully.

"Right. That." I nod. "A Slayer is weakened; depraved of her powers before being locked up in a building and put against a foe she must defeat using _clever_ skills like imagination and cunning and self-reliance and whatever other crap the Watchers can come up with. They think it makes better Slayers, but I don't see how. It'll just make them _dead_ Slayers." I notice out of the corner of my eye that Spike wants to comment on that, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Mom looks horrified – and also angry. "So they made you weak and defenceless…and thought you'd benefit from being locked away with a _monster_?!"

"Monster in question sittin' right here." Mom blinks in confusion at Spike. "I was the one s'posed to fight her, but the Watchers lied to me just like they lied to her. Told me that your daughter ordered my capture so she could fight me and kill me as a trophy. Wankers. Knew I wouldn't fight her while she's weakened. It's unfair and a bloody waste of a good Slayer."

"So you didn't kill her." I can see the anger still in Mom's eyes, but it's not directed at Spike. Instead she looks grateful, with maybe a hint of admiration hidden within those depths. Dawn's staring at Spike with an expression I can only describe as 'hero worship'.

Never thought I'd see the day where my little sister starts worshiping a vampire as a hero.

"Helped her escape," Spike explains. "Walked her home so no nasty could take a bite out of her." He turns to me. "You should probably prepare yourself. Won't be long before the Watchers figure out that we've both skedaddled and then they'll be lookin' for us – or for you, at least."

Tempting fate is something that should never be done on the Hellmouth, because it never ends well. It's the ultimate jinx.

So after Spike's words I probably should've expected Giles to burst through the side door and into the kitchen.

What I _don't_ expect is the stake in his hand.

And he's charging at Spike.

I leap out of my seat, ready to defend the vampire who refused to kill me against the man who betrayed my trust – despite the fact that I'm powerless and in such a state probably wouldn't stand a chance against Giles. But I don't have to, because Mom leaps to her feet faster than I thought possible, places herself in front of both me _and_ Spike, and delivers a clean _slap_ across Giles's face.

My Watcher stumbles back and drops his stake, before turning to stare at us all with wide eyes. I think he's surprised that Mom can hit that hard.

"How _could_ you?!" she yells at him. "I _trusted_ you, Rupert! I trusted you with my baby girl's life, and you broke that trust! You _poisoned_ her! And then you set her up to fight a vampire she had no hope of defeating! Why would you _do_ such a thing?!"

Giles takes in a deep breath and lets it out, obviously trying to calm himself. "I did not have a choice. Quentin Travers made it clear that if I refused to administer the test then I would be fired and possibly deported."

"Then grow a backbone and _stand up for yourself_ ," Mom practically hisses. I really hope she doesn't get out the axe she hides somewhere in the kitchen. "You would choose your job over her _life_? You condemned her to _die_! The _only_ reason she's still alive is because the vampire you made her fight decided not to kill her!"

Giles looks past her and his eyes fall upon Spike. "I was not told who her opponent was. When Lydia told me his name I immediately called for the test to be halted. I stormed the building myself when Travers refused, but neither of you were to be found. So I came looking." He frowns. "Why would you spare her life?"

"Why did your Watcher friends tell me that your Slayer wanted me as a trophy?" Spike asks back. "That's what I was told; that your Slayer wanted me as a trophy kill. They implied that she was at full strength. You know why? Because I don't kill weakened Slayers. It's not a fair fight and not a way a Slayer should go. The other Watchers must've known that, and thought I'd be too angry to notice. When I realized what was goin' on I backed off, we talked and then I brought her home."

I inch closer towards Spike and away from my Watcher.

"That really says something, doesn't it?" says Mom. "That a soulless vampire treated my daughter better than her own Watcher. Mr. Giles, I would greatly appreciate it if you left my house and never set foot in it again. I want you to stay away from Buffy from now on, even at school. And if I hear from her that you've been doing otherwise, you _won't_ like the consequences."

For a moment it looks like Giles is going to protest, but then must realize that it's a stupid idea, so instead turns to me. "I shall inform the Watchers that you got out on your own, and that your…opponent disappeared. They will want to speak to you, and they will have questions."

"How about you tell them to get out of town before my powers come back? And maybe you should go with them."

Giles actually gulps, something I've never seen him do. But at the same time he looks both hurt and guilty, and it takes all of my effort to ignore it. On the one hand he really didn't have a choice. But on the other, maybe he did, and he still betrayed me.

It's something that won't go away so easily. If at all.

Dawn – who up until this point has been dead silent – climbs out of her seat and approaches Giles as well. She stops in front of him and folds her arms across her middle. "I know I can't take you in a fight," she tells him. "But if you ever hurt my sister again, you're gonna wake up on fire."

Spike actually chokes on a snort of laughter, and shockingly, Giles looks even more intimidated than before.

"Yes, well…" Giles stutters as he bends down to pick up his fallen stake. "I should be…be going…" He sends me a final look of guilt before turning and walking out the side door, shutting it behind him.

For a few moments there's only silence.

And then Spike turns to me. "Your family is unbelievably scary. I like them."

It gets a smile out of me, just what I need after that confrontation.

What remains of our hot chocolates gets dumped in the sink, no one really having the appetite to finish them.

"Bed time for you, young lady," Mom says to Dawn, who doesn't protest about it like she usually would.

"I should head out," says Spike. "Get some blood in me." He must catch my worried glance, because he adds, "From the butcher's. Or if they're really not open, then _Willy's_."

"It's in the shadier part of town," I tell him. "Can't miss it."

"Where are you staying for the night?" asks Mom.

Spike looks surprised by her question. "Haven't got a place. I've spent the better part of my stay here in Sunnyhell tied up by the Council of Wankers. And I have no intention of goin' back _there_."

"Then why don't you stay here for the night?"

Spike's eyes widen in shock. As do mine. "Mother!"

"What's the problem?" Mom asks, like it's an actual question. "He already said that he's not going to hurt us. It's the least I can do after he got you out of that dreadful situation, and then made sure that you got home safely."

"It'd be awesome if you do!" says Dawn, who's practically jumping up and down with joy. And I thought her obsession with the Backstreet Boys was fast, but it's nothing compared to how fast she's taken to Spike. "We can set you up in the basement, and everything!"

"We have a cot down there," Mom elaborates.

Spike is caught somewhere between shock and awe. Why awe? "I really don't wanna be any trouble…"

"Nonsense," says Mom. "Once you have your blood, come back here and stay for as long as you need to. I'll set up the cot ready."

This is getting really wiggy now. Mom offering a vampire a place to stay for the night? And it's a vampire who still wants to fight me – and maybe kill me, at that. But at the same time I can't push down the feeling of hope that he might take up the offer…

"I'll ask around the demon population," says Spike. "One of them might have a spare bed or a flat they can rent out. And if I don't find anything…I'll come back."

"I'll wait up," says Mom.

I shake my head. "I will. I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight, so I might as well."

"Don't wait up all night," says Spike. "I might not be back."

But just over an hour later, when I'm sat on the couch and starting to drift off, I hear the side door open and close, and see Spike walk out of the kitchen and towards me. There's a brown paper bag in his hands.

"Butcher's was open," he says. "Any place I can store this for now?"

I place the blood in the fridge alongside the meat products.

Just as I'm about to head up to bed Spike takes my hand to get my attention, and I turn back to him. He then jesters to the clock and it takes me a moment to realize what he's implying.

It's gone midnight.

"Happy Birthday."


	6. Chapter Six: Morning After

**Chapter Notes** : Originally the morning after scene and Buffy telling her friends what happened was all going to be in the same chapter, but then it was getting rather long so I decided to split it in two. The Scoobie fallout will be in the next chapter.

* * *

The morning light in my eyes is what wakes me up, and when I open them the first thing I see is my alarm clock reading 9:02am.

The surge of panic dies as quickly as it ignites when I remember that it's Saturday.

And also my birthday.

It's been a year since I lost Owen, though it's not as much of a marker as I'd thought it would be, a year ago today. When it happened I promised I would love him forever. Time had over ideas. It faded, and I realized that it wasn't the strong and powerful love that I thought it was. I still love him in my own way, and I think a small part of me always will.

But not enough to think of this day as anything other than my birthday.

I slowly swing my legs around and place my feet on the floor. I sit there for a few minutes, slowly breathing in and out, and remembering that last night I didn't think I would make it to see this morning. I didn't think I would turn eighteen at all.

The big one-eight doesn't really feel any different. I expected it to – to feel the weight of responsibility and adult-ness – but I don't. Maybe that's because I became an adult the day Merrick found me on the front steps of my old high school. Now numbers don't matter, and one-eight feels just the same as one-seven and one-six and even one-five.

They're just numbers. They don't matter because I'm going to die young anyway. So what if I didn't last night; it'll happen one day, and there's no use in denying it.

All I'm doing is counting the years until the day I die, rather than counting the years since I was born. It's just like the absurdity of a vampire counting birthdays: pointless.

I wonder if Spike has stopped counting his.

At the thought of the bleach blonde vampire I can't help but smile, which should be wiggy – that I'm smiling at the thought of a _vampire_ – but it isn't. Because what Mom said last night was right; it speaks volumes that Spike, the vampire who could've _killed_ me, chose not to and treated me better than my own Watcher did.

It still hurts, thinking about what Giles did to me. But the hurt is turning into anger, and that's something I can handle. Anger is something I can use to fight back. Hurt just makes me as weak as I was last night.

Speaking of…

I pick up my discarded slipper, and taking aim at the doorknob, I throw it. It misses, which I'm not surprised by, but not by miles like it did when I tried it the other day. It's closer, which means my aim is getting better, which means that my powers are slowly returning to me.

I stand, bend down and go to lift the side of my bed. I don't struggle as much as I would've done yesterday, but enough to make me certain that my strength is only starting to return.

After standing again I close my eyes and expand my senses, trying to feel for Spike's vampire signature. I don't feel anything, which means that he either left in the early hours of the morning, or that element of my Slayer powers hasn't returned yet. I guess the latter when I walk over to the door, listen, and hear Spike's voice downstairs. He's talking with Dawn from the sounds of it.

And judging by the aches of my muscles, Slayer healing hasn't kicked in. Though the burns on my hands look better, as does the cut, so it might be only starting to.

I don't bother to change out of my pyjamas as I head into the bathroom to get cleaned up. I know I'm supposed to be going shopping with Willow today, but I don't feel up to it. I'm still hurt from last night, on the inside and out, and all I want is to take a lazy day. Willow won't mind, and this way Xander and Oz can join us, since they opted out of the girly activity.

When I'm in the bathroom I suddenly find myself knelt in front of the toilet and emptying the contents of my stomach into it. Gross. I get that puke isn't supposed to smell like lavender and roses but this smell isn't what puke should smell like. It smells like chemicals. It doesn't take me long to figure that it contains some of the poison still in me, and this is my body's way of flushing it out. I guess I'll have to get used to doing this for most of the day.

I empty out the other end, flush the chain and when I take a look in the mirror I notice some puke on my pyjama top. I pout.

There goes my pyjama day. And I love my yummy sushi pyjamas.

I change out of them and dump them in the wash basket, and noticing just how awful I look – bruises, cut, dirt, the whole nine yards – I decide to take a quick shower. The water is mostly soothing on my skin, though I don't appreciate the way the soap aggravates my burns. Afterwards I go back to my room and slip on my lazy day clothes – a t-shirt two sizes too big for me and a pair of baggy tracksuit bottoms – before tying my hair up in a loose bun.

I then head down the stairs for breakfast. Hopefully I won't throw it all up again.

The sight that meets me when I reach the kitchen is…strange, to say the least.

"That _so_ didn't happen!"

"Yes it did! I was bleedin' _there_! Bet those soddin' historians can't make the same claim!"

"Have you _seen_ what historians look like? They're totally ancient. Probably older than _you_."

"I'm only a hundred and forty six, I'll have you know!"

Dawn is sat at the island with an empty bowl by her side and her homework book out in front of her, alongside a textbook. Sat next to her is Spike, with an empty mug which probably contained blood pushed away to his left, and he's leaning over Dawn's textbook with a scowl on his face.

He's helping her with her homework.

A _vampire_ is helping my little sister with _homework_.

The world's ending. It has to be.

Dawn looks up and spots me. "Buffy! Can you _please_ tell your new vampire friend that I have to write what's in the textbook, even if it's "wrong"? If I start writing what he's telling me to, then they'll ask where I heard it from, and I can't tell them that a hundred and something vampire told me!"

I'm about to tell Dawn that Spike isn't my friend, but then he looks up and sends me this little smile like the one he sent Dawn last night, only this one is different somehow. I'm not sure how it's different exactly, but it makes me blush and forget about my words of denial.

"I have a right mind to track down these so called "historians" and eat them," says Spike, returning his gaze to Dawn and her textbook. "What're they teachin' in schools these days? It's bloody criminal!" Says the criminal vampire.

"Well, my history professor once told us that history is written by the victors, so it's not always accurate," I say.

"There's a bloody difference between that and this." He points at the textbook like it's committed a sin. "I was on the battlefield myself, and none of this happened."

"You were fighting in the war?" asks Dawn. "Can vampires fight in wars like this?"

"In our own way," says Spike. "We were munchin' our way through enemy soldiers. Decided that if we're gonna eat someone, might as well eat the Germans. Didn't exactly taste nice. Reeked of trench foot."

Dawn and I make faces. Gross. I _so_ don't wanna know after I've just thrown up. "I'm pretty sure Dawn's too young to be hearing this."

He shrugs. "Hearin' all about it in class. The first Great War was a bloody and gory mess even without bringin' vamps into the picture. Not something that can be sugar-coated, though the propaganda at the time sure as hell tried."

"So did you fight in many other wars?" asks Dawn.

"Mostly kept to ourselves after that," he says. "Only time we got involved again was when the Nazis kidnapped Dru. Angelus and I had to break into a sub to get her out. Sunk the bleedin' thing, we did. It was a riot."

"Where's Mom?" I ask, wanting to change the subject.

Before either of them can answer Mom appears from the basement. "Buffy, good. You're up. I was afraid you were going to sleep the day away."

"Nope, but I plan on having a lazy day," I tell her. "Did you just put the washing on?" When she nods I sigh. "That's annoying. My yummy sushi pyjamas need washing. I puked this morning."

"You were sick?" Mom crosses the room and starts rubbing my back when she reaches me. "Is it to do with the poison?"

"Yeah, but in a good way," I tell her. "I'm flushing it out of my system."

"It's no surprise," says Spike. "It'll happen again a few more times, I wager. Then your Slayer healin' will kick in and take care of the rest."

"It's already starting to," I say. "My powers are starting to come back. Slowly but surely."

"That's good." Spike nods, looking pleased, and I have to remind myself that he only does because he wants to fight me. That's why he's sticking around, and that's why he helped me. Because he wants a fair fight – and one that'll end with one of us kicking the bucket. And it'll probably be me, because every time I think about fighting him I get the feeling that when the time comes I won't be able to kill him…

"Did you say you're having a lazy day?" asks Mom.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p'.

"Willow called earlier," she explains. "I didn't tell her everything, but I mentioned that something bad happened last night and that it'll be better if you rested today. She says that's fine, and I invited them over on the condition that they don't over-exert you."

"I'm not a china doll, Mom." But I don't mean it, because she's right. I'm not ready to do anything big today. And if the gang is coming over then I can tell them what happened.

"She wasn't the only person who called," says Mom. "Mr. Giles tried to call, too. I hung up on him. But he might call again."

I nod, understanding why she would do that. If he calls again I'll probably do the same. I'm not ready to hear what he has to say. I'm too hurt.

Dawn heads upstairs for a shower. Mom makes me eat some of her wholegrain cereal – it tastes like cardboard but I feel much better afterwards – and just as I'm finishing up the phone starts to ring. Mom and I exchange glances, knowing who it could be. But it might not be him; it could be Willow, or Xander, or anyone else we know. It may even be a wrong number.

Since I'm closest I stand and pick it up. "Summers residence."

" _Buffy, it's me._ "

I almost hang up, but I refrain from doing so. Lydia may have known about the test, but she didn't actively help to set it up like Giles did. And unlike Giles, she actually tried to help me; she provided me with weapons and told me who I was up against. So I'm not mad at her, or at the very least, I'm not as mad at her as I am at Giles.

"Hi, Lydia. What's up?"

" _Giles informed us of what happened. I do not understand how both you and William the Bloody could have escaped, but I suppose neither of you are to be underestimated,_ " she says. " _Do you have any idea where he has gone?_ "

I sigh with relief. So Giles didn't tell them what really happened. That's good. It doesn't earn him my forgiveness, but I guess it's a tiny start. "No."

" _I still do not understand why the Council would choose him in the first place. I tried to tell them that he would not cooperate, but they refused to listen,_ " she continues. " _They want to question you about the test and perform a formal evaluation of what happened. Giles has not been forthcoming with answers, but I suppose you would not have told him much to begin with._ "

"You got that right."

I hear her sigh on the other end. " _Buffy, I know that you are upset, and you have every right to be. Giles betrayed your trust, but he truly did not have a choice._ "

"Everyone has a choice," I tell her. "He could've chosen _not_ to give me that poison. He could've chosen to stand up to the Council."

" _Both of which would have gotten him fired and deported,_ " says Lydia. " _There was little in the way of choice. Had he chosen to oppose the Council, you would have been without a Watcher who understands you; who does not understand your need for friends and family. And opposing the Council would not have stopped the test. They would have simply called in another Watcher to give you the suppressant, and on top of losing your powers and facing the vampire foe, you would have also been dealing with the loss of your Watcher and father figure._ "

I lean against the wall, unable to give any kind of retort. She's right when she puts it that way. But it still hurts. I still feel betrayed that Giles did this to me; that he had it within him to weaken me and leave me defenceless. It's something that won't be forgiven so easily.

"I'm still angry," I tell her.

" _I know,_ " she says in understanding. " _And I am not asking you to forgive him. But remember that to forgive is an act of compassion; you should give it, not because the person deserves it, but because they need it._ "

Giles told me that once, when my old LA friend Ford came to town and tried to hand me over to Dracula in exchange for getting turned into a vampire. I didn't want to forgive him, even though I knew Ford was dying and frightened of it, but Giles convinced me that I should. Because it was the right thing to do.

"When do the Watchers want to see me?" I ask.

" _Monday,_ " she says. " _I am allowing you time away from your morning classes. Everyone will be meeting in the library._ "

"OK. I'll see you then." I hang up and close my eyes with a sigh.

"Was that your Principal?" asks Mom.

I nod. "She says that the Council wants to speak with me on Monday. I have to go. The only reason I am is because my powers will be back by then. But then again, that Travers guy is, like, sixty. I can't hit him." I frown and turn to Mom. "Can I?"

"I'm tempted to attend myself and give him a piece of my mind," says Mom, barely containing her rage.

"I'd eat the whole lot of them if I wasn't a veal kind of guy. They're too old to eat." Spike pauses thoughtfully. "But not to kill. And I haven't done the railroad spike thing in a while. That could be entertainin'…" He looks off into space almost wishfully.

As much as I'm hating the Watchers Council right now, I hope he doesn't kill them. I'm a hero, and if he does, then I'll kind of have to stake him. Which is something I really don't wanna do.

And I'm actually admitting that now. I'm officially the worst Slayer ever.

Before anymore can be said there's a knock at the door. "That's probably your friends," says Mom. She walks out and climbs the stairs, obviously wanting me to have some time alone with said friends.

"Is." Spike gets to his feet. "Could hear them from all the way down the soddin' road." He turns to me. "Want me to make myself scarce?"

"For now that's probably best," I tell him. "At least until I've explained what's happened."

"Right. I'll heat up some more blood while you entertain." And with that he turns to the fridge, opens it, and takes out another packet of blood, which he then rips and pours into the mug he's already used.

I try not to barf at the sight I've just witnessed as I walk to the front door, and after letting out the breath I didn't realize I was holding, I open the door to reveal my waiting friends.

"Buffy!" Willow leaps into my arms and pulls me into a tight hug. "Are you OK? I called the house this morning and your mom said that something happened last night, and that you weren't feeling very good, and that you wouldn't be able to come shopping today, which is really OK by the way, and-"

"Wils, slow down," I tell her, pulling out of the hug. "You're rambling. Are you really OK about the shopping?"

She nods, but a voice behind her says, "I'm not!"

I glance behind Xander and Oz and notice that Cordelia's here. It's a surprise, but at the same time, it isn't. Despite the rocky start and her not-so-friendly past with Willow and Xander, Cordelia's actually become part of the gang. It wasn't really official until this time last year, when Owen died and she offered some genuine comfort. It was also around the same time that we found out that she and Xander had been seeing each other without telling anyone.

She got pretty unfriendly again after Xander and Willow made with the smoochies, but it was understandable. She didn't really talk to any of us again until just before Christmas when she and I ended up in the same shop. There was yelling, in which she tried to blame me for everything that had happened to her, before she slowly realized that hanging out with us was a choice she made herself, and we ended up sat in the changing rooms while she cried her eyes out over what happened. She and Xander are back to insulting each other, only nastier than before, and she's not exactly friendly with Willow for obvious reasons, but she's talking to me again and I've seen her hanging around with Oz a few times.

"You were gonna come with?" I ask her. I don't remember our plans including Cordelia. I considered inviting her, but I thought it would be too awkward with her and Willow together in the same vicinity.

"You were going shopping. Of course I was coming!" she replies, while pushing past Xander to get inside. He glares at her, but she doesn't notice. "I asked Willow to help me with this research paper on Bosnia which is due in on Monday, and she mentioned the shopping trip so I invited myself. I totally get why you didn't invite me before, but I'm not gonna let some grudge over what happened get in the way of a spending spree. But then I show up at Willow's house today and she says it's been cancelled because something bad happened to you. I was gonna go alone, but then I realized that if something bad happened to you then there won't be anyone to save me from all the demons and vampires wanting to kill me! Hello! I can't be killed! The world will be depraved of a future super star!"

"Poor us," Xander mutters under his breath. When Cordelia turns to glare at him – one which is a lot nastier than Xander's – he clears his throat and holds up the box in his hands. "I brought doughnuts, and I thought we could order pizza at lunch."

"I brought a collection of movies," says Oz, speaking up for the first time. He gestures to the cardboard box in his hand, which is filled with videos.

"But what happened, Buffy?" asks Willow.

I sigh. "You all need to sit down."


	7. Chapter Seven: What Friends Are For

My friends sit down in the living room without a word, though I notice Willow and Xander exchanging glances. I probably haven't looked this serious in a long time.

I'm the only one left standing. "First thing's first, I'm OK. I've got some cuts, bruises, rope burns on my hands, and I'm hurting on the inside, but I'm OK."

"Hurting on the inside? Are we, like, talking internal damage or an emotional thing?" asks Xander.

"The second one." I bite my lip, uncertain how I'm gonna tell my friends all this…

"You don't have your powers," Willow remembers. "So whatever happened last night, you couldn't fight back. That's why it was bad, wasn't it?"

"It was more than just that," I say. I'm probably starting to sound cryptic, but I can't help it. I'm dodging the truth because it's one they won't handle well. Giles hasn't been just a father figure to me; he's been one to all of them, mostly Willow and Xander. Willow's father is strict and doesn't really understand. Xander's is drunk most of the time. Cordelia's is rarely around. And Oz barely even knows his father.

So hearing that Giles could do something like this to me won't be easy for them to hear.

"What do you mean by 'more'?" asks Xander.

I sigh. I might as well get it all out and over with. "I found out why I've been losing my powers."

"Oh. That's good." I can tell that Willow doesn't know whether to look happy or sad. "I mean, I kept on researching and I couldn't find anything. So it's good that you know now, right?"

"I wish I didn't." I look down.

"Why?" asks Xander. "It can't be fixed? Are you losing them for good?"

"Wait, Buffy's lost her powers?" asks Cordelia, and I remember that she wasn't involved with the research. "Why didn't anyone tell me? I've been going out at night, thinking I'm safe from all the vampires because I know Buffy will save me, and now you're telling me she doesn't have her powers? I could've died!"

I look up again. "I'm not losing my powers for good. They're coming back. They've already started to."

Cordelia sighs in relief. "Oh thank god!"

"So why did you lose them?" asks Oz, in an effort to get us back on track.

"Well…" I sigh again. This is gonna be ugly. "I was out last night, patrolling. I know I shouldn't have been out, and I know Kendra could take care of it, but… I just had to get out there. Bad idea, because two vamps jumped me, and I would've died had Giles not hit them with his car."

"So Giles saved you," says Xander. "Does that mean he found out what happened and came to tell you?"

I shake my head. "He…knew…but…"

"But what?" Willow looks panicked.

"He… When we were driving over there he was being all cryptic about it," I explain. "He drove me to the old Sunnydale Arms where Wesley and Lydia were waiting with other members of the Watchers Council."

"Who Giles works for?" asks Willow.

I nod. "The head Watcher, Quentin Travers, was there. He explained what was going on. Apparently on a Slayer's eighteenth birthday she's given a suppressant – which is just their fancy word for _poison_ – that takes away her powers; makes her as weak as a human. Then they lock her in a building and unleash an enemy onto her which she has to kill using other skills she wouldn't normally use, like intelligence and creativity. They claim that it's a way to make better Slayers out of them."

The four are just staring at me in silence.

Xander is first to speak. "…What? The Council took away your powers _on purpose_? For some stupid _test_?"

"Pretty much," I say. "And that's not even the worst part."

"What could be worse than, you know, not being strong and fighting a big scary demon when you can't?" asks Willow.

"What's worse? Giles was the one who took away my powers."

And I thought the room was silent a few seconds ago.

"Giles?" Willow squeaks. "As in, _Giles_ , Giles? Giles, as in, he works in a library, always wears tweed, always cleans his glasses when he's stressed… _That_ _Giles_?"

"Why would Giles do that to you?!" Xander demands, looking angrier by the second.

"He claims he didn't have a choice," I reply. "He said that they would've fired and deported him if he didn't do it. Doesn't make it hurt any less."

"So what?" says Xander. "They put you against some monster and ask you to fight him without your powers? That won't make you better, that'll just make you _dead_!"

"But you're here," Oz notices. "So either you beat him or you didn't fight at all."

"That's where things get a little more complicated," I say.

Xander – who's been fidgeting with his hands since I mentioned the Council – suddenly gets up, opens the box of doughnuts on the coffee table and takes one out. He proceeds to stuff it in his mouth, not even paying any heed to all of us watching. Me, Oz and Willow are surprised. Cordelia looks disgusted.

"Why did I ever date you?" she asks, more to herself than to him.

When Xander notices us watching he just shrugs. "I'm angry and I need comfort food. I had the choice of stuffing myself or breaking something, and I don't want to make Joyce mad at me." He finishes the doughnut and proceeds to take another one. "Don't mistake this for lack of empathy. I have my own ways of dealing."

At this Willow reaches across and takes a doughnut out too, and even Oz does the same. I hold back, not wanting to throw up, since a doughnut is the last thing my body needs right now.

Cordelia gets to her feet. "I'm not eating one of _those_. Have you _seen_ how much fat is in those things?" She moves towards the kitchen. "Buffy, is it OK if I take one of your mom's wholegrain bars? She let me have one the last time I was here."

It doesn't register until she's actually in the kitchen, and by then it's too late. "Wait, Cordelia!"

"Whoa!" She strides back into the living room, looking utterly breathless. But not in the 'I'm scared for my life' kind of way. "OK, Buffy. Who's the hot guy in your kitchen, and where can I get one for myself?"

"What?" Xander almost spits out the contents of his mouth in shock.

"There's a hot guy?" asks Willow, looking between us both.

I close my eyes and sigh. I'm _so_ not ready for this part. My friends are totally gonna wig.

Spike appears from the kitchen, mug in hand, but he's drank enough of its contents so my friends can't see that it's actually blood. Cordelia sits back down, but not without looking him over in appreciation, and I feel a little surge of jealously but totally don't get why, because there's nothing to be jealous over. At all. Nothing. Whatsoever.

Spike surveys the room's occupants. "Well, it looks like the Slayer's got herself her own personal Scoobie gang, complete with a dog. And a Shaggy." His eyes fall on Xander and his eyebrow quirks up as he takes another sip of blood.

Xander's shock wears off and is replaced with offence. "Hey!"

That comparison I get. But I don't know what he means by 'dog' until Willow says, "And Oz isn't a dog! That's mean!" She looks just as offended as Xander, even though Oz himself doesn't look offended at all, but that's nothing new. He's only frowning at Spike.

"How did you know Oz is a werewolf?" I ask.

Spike taps his nose. "Could smell it. Might not be a full moon, but the scent is always there."

"How can you _smell_ that?" asks Xander.

I'm not sure how to explain that, but before I can think of anything Oz suddenly gets to his feet. His expression has changed to one of seriousness, one of his few emotive ones. With his eyes never leaving Spike, he moves around the table and places himself in front of Willow. His hand is dug in his pocket – the one where he usually keeps his cross.

He knows. Spike isn't the only one in this room with heightened senses.

Oz looks towards me, but he isn't judgemental. Just serious. "Why have you invited a vampire into you home?"

Xander actually chokes on the doughnut in his mouth. Willow's eyes widen with panic.

Cordelia looks put out. "Great! Why are all the hot guys either taken, gay or dead? It's so not fair!"

"He's a…he's a…" Willow's panicked breathing just gets faster and faster the more times she looks between me and Spike.

Xander recovers from almost choking to death and stares wide eyed at Spike. "Vampire! He's a…vampire! In your house! And he's…he's…not killing us…"

At his own words he frowns and calms a little, as does Willow with help from Oz soothingly rubbing her back. The shock is still there in both their expressions, though both are mostly covered by the questioning looks they send my way.

"That's the, uh…complicated part of the story," I explain. "He's the vampire I was supposed to fight. We were locked in the building together, we chased for a bit, and then…"

"She tried to punch me, and instead it tickled," says Spike. "Realized what was goin' on right off. See, I was told that the Slayer I was fightin' wanted me as a trophy to send her rep skyrocketin'."

"Why tell you that?" asks Willow bravely.

"They knew I wouldn't kill her otherwise," he says with a shrug. "I don't kill weakened Slayers. It's not sportin' and it's no fun."

"After that we sat and talked for a bit before we both escaped," I continue. "Spike helped me home and Mom invited him in. He spent the night since he didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Wait, did you say _Spike_?" Xander looks at me, then at Spike, and then back at me again. "Isn't Spike the name of the vamp Principal Chalmers got you to study back when the Master was trying to kill you?"

"The very one," I say.

Xander looks back at Spike. "You're a Slayer killer! But you _helped_ her?!"

Spike rolls his eyes. "Just said that I don't kill weakened Slayers, you nitwit. I have every intention of fightin' her once she's back to her full strength."

I try to hide my disappointment at his words.

"But you still helped her," says Willow. She rises from her seat and crosses the room, trying to act brave in front of him but at the same time looking scared out of her mind. "She's one of my best friends, so…thank you. For helping her get away from those poophead Watchers and making sure she got home. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to her."

Spike's eyebrow quirks up again, but he doesn't say anything. Doesn't deny that he helped me, nor does he repeat the 'I only did it so I can fight her' reason. He actually looks impressed at Willow's bravery; that she's saying something like this to his face.

"So we're actually congratulating this guy for _not eating_ Buffy?" says Xander. He rises to his feet. "He's still a vampire, and a dangerous one. We shouldn't be going, 'Hey, thanks for not eating my friend, Mr. Evil Vampire, now let's throw you a hero party'. He's killed people. He's killed _Slayers_. _And_ he just said that he wants to _fight_ Buffy. Vamps fight Buffy because they want to _kill_ her. Is no one getting this?"

"But Giles technically tried to kill her, too," says Willow, turning to him. "Maybe not intentionally, but he took away her powers and forced her to fight a vampire who _kills_ Slayers. He might as well have just turned around and shot her." She turns to me. "I'm not saying that you can't handle yourself, but…"

"I know," I assure her. I turn to Xander. "Willow's right. No matter what Spike is or what he's done in the past, right now he's in a better light than Giles. I get that maybe Giles didn't have much in the way of choice, but it still hurts that he did it; that he pretty much condemned me to death, even if he didn't know it was Spike I was up against. But at the end of the day, having Spike as an opponent probably saved my life. If I'd been up against any other vampire, then I'd be dead right now."

"If you'd been up against any of the other three, that's a definite on the dead part. And the older two would've done worse than just killed you," adds Spike.

Oz turns to me. "Other three?"

"Darla, Angelus and Drusilla. The rest of the family," I reply. "Spike's dangerous, but from what I've read about the others he's a kitten compared to them."

"Hey!"

"Sorry." I wince. "From my point of view that's a compliment, though I see why you wouldn't think so. Vampire, and all."

"I'm not saying that Giles isn't wrong, because he is," says Xander. "He's in some serious 'oh so wrong' territory. I'm just really worried about what Spike could be planning. What if he only told you that he's waiting for a fair fight? Worse, what if he's actually got you in a thrall and is secretly commanding you to say all this nice stuff about him?"

Spike rolls his eyes. "Trust me, Whelp. If I had a thrall then you'd be doin' a chicken dance right about now."

I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing, and I notice Willow do the same. Oz raises an eyebrow, which is pretty much the equivalent of a laugh for him. Cordelia is the only one who laughs out loud with no shame, but that's not much of a surprise for her, and it's probably this that gets Xander to hesitantly sit back down in defeat.

"Doesn't Drusilla have a thrall?" I ask. I remember reading about it in one of the books. But that same book claimed that she'd been killed by an angry mob in Prague, so…

"Yeah, but just 'cause she's my sire doesn't mean her gifts get passed along to me as well," he explains. "A thrall isn't included in the vampire package. A person has to have something off about them to begin with in order to have a thrall. Dru has the Sight, like I mentioned before, and it's something she had when she was alive. It developed more into a stronger psychic power after she was turned. Dracula dabbled in Romani parlour tricks and magic, which included mind control."

"Drac's thrall was the worst," I say. "I still knew what was going on. It was like I was trapped in my own body and couldn't get out."

"Amen to that," says Xander. "Serving the dark mast- I mean Dracula, was the worst experience of my life."

"My deepest sympathies." Though judging by Spike's expression, he doesn't mean it. At least about Xander's comment.

"So what happens now?" asks Cordelia. "With the test, I mean. You obviously didn't go through with it. Will the Watchers be angry?"

"They want to talk to me about it on Monday," I explain. "Lydia called and told me this morning. Giles also came by last night and Mom slapped him for what he did. I'm surprised he didn't tell the Council what really happened; that I escaped with Spike. He just said that I got out on my own and didn't know where Spike was."

"Maybe he's trying to make it up to you," Willow suggests. "He's still a poophead, but you _did_ say that he didn't have a choice. So he could be trying to make things right."

Maybe. Or maybe not. I guess I'll see where his loyalties lie come Monday; with the Council or with his Slayer.

"You're not cruising past the concept that Giles could be going the way of Anakin Skywalker anytime soon, are you, Wil?" asks Xander.

"It's _Giles_ ," she insists. "Giles doesn't do bad things. I mean, I know he had that whole teenage rebellion thing in his younger years, but he's supposed to be a good guy, right? He could just be the puppet, with the Council as the puppet masters. And if that's true then…then…I'm writing an angry letter!"

"Dear Council of Wankers, I am dissatisfied with your services because you did not include 'temporal removal of powers for unfair test' in your fine print…" Without thinking I slap Spike's arm playfully, though the worry of his reaction goes away just as quickly as it came when Spike chuckles.

"You know, the whole thing's not really that surprising," I comment. "When you look at the bigger picture, I mean. Because at the end of the day I kept up my special birthday tradition of gut-wrenching misery and horror."

"Bright side to everything," says Oz with a shrug.

"We can continue that tradition with a selection of movies filled with gut-wrenching misery and horror," says Xander. "Oz brought some good ones. Then after movie-marathon day, if you're feeling better, Buff, we can hit up the Bronze and get some dance on. There'd be no need to slay anything; just one night off while you can still enjoy it."

That actually sounds pretty exciting. "Sure."

"Will you be staying, Spike?" asks Willow. She doesn't look nervous. Just curious.

Spike shrugs. "Might as well. It's day, so I'm not goin' anywhere."

"If he's staying, then I'm staying," says Cordelia. She's already adjusting her top so that it shows more cleavage.

My heart rate picking up at Spike's words should really be a bad sign, but seeing as I'm surrounded by my friends on my birthday, I really can't bring myself to care. Especially when Dawn comes down to join us and commandeers a seat next to Spike.

Maybe this won't be such a bad birthday, after all.

* * *

 **End Notes** : Just giving an advanced warning that I'm going to be taking part in NaNoWriMo, meaning that fanfiction will be taking a back seat during November. I've written up to chapter ten of this story (with chapter eleven giving me a lot of trouble) so I'll still be posting, but I thought I should warn you all anyway.


	8. Chapter Eight: Night Out

**Chapter Notes** : I'm just getting into the swing of NaNoWriMo, but I had time to post this chapter. It was definitely one of my favourites to write.

* * *

I wonder if Spike can handle it, being surrounded by so many warm bodies and beating hearts, but he assures me that he's fine as he orders himself a beer. He tells me that he's not a fledgling; he can keep his fangs to himself.

And since he was able to resist the temptation of Slayer's blood before, I believe him.

I didn't even think he would come tonight, but Mom was worried about us going to the Bronze without my full strength, so Spike offered to tag along if only to put her fears to rest. And Kendra should be around here somewhere; she usually stops by in between cemetery sweeps, despite looking so out of place here that she's easier to spot than the vampires themselves.

I glance over at my friends, who have found us a table. Willow and Oz are sat talking, and next to them is Cordelia, who keeps looking around the club with watchful eyes. She's probably on the look-out in case the popular crowd shows up, which means she'll ditch us and go hang with them. Xander's the only one on the dance floor, showing off his embarrassing moves and not caring who's watching.

When I turn back to Spike he's looking down at his beer like it's a puzzle he's trying to solve. "I've heard there're a number of American beers that are highly underrated. This unfortunately isn't one of them." He doesn't put it down, though, so he must not care too much about it.

I pick up the tray of drinks and carry them over to our table.

"That band's not much of an act," Spike announces when he arrives, obviously in an attempt to break the ice. But really the only ice that needs to be broken is the sheet that surrounds the part of Xander's brain that allows him to think straight without prejudice getting in the way. Oz and Willow seem to be OK with Spike, and Cordelia's been fake-laughing at all his jokes (or at least what she thinks are jokes) practically all day.

"They're just starting out," says Oz. "Need practice. Some of the guitars need tuning."

"Oz is in a band," says Willow by way of explanation. "They usually play on Thursdays. And they're called Dingoes Ate My Baby."

Spike chuckles. "That's a name I can get behind."

Cordelia lets out a fake laugh, and we all turn to stare at her. "What? He made a joke. He's a vampire, so he'd get behind a name like that?"

"Not exactly the Queen of Humour, are you, Cordy?" says Xander as he approaches the table. He picks up his drink and gulps half of it down.

She scowls. " _Please_. I _perfected_ the art of the fake laugh when I was dating you. I mean, you jokes? _So_ not funny. I had to keep myself laughing so I wouldn't barf at how bad they were. Just thinking about some of them makes me wanna barf even now." She places her hand over her mouth. "Yep. You've got me going again. Excuse me." She stands up and hurries over to the girls' room.

Xander watches her go and shakes his head. "She acts like she's the only one who was scarred by our Year of the Dating." He turns to Spike. "I actually feel sorry for you. How many times did she try and angle her breasts in your face, anyway?"

"Lost count," says Spike, wincing. "She's a decent lookin' bint, but she doesn't really do anything for me."

"Really?" I ask. "She's brunette, she's skinny; she's just like your sire, Drusilla. And according to the books Lydia gave me, the two of you were like, mega close."

He closes his eyes and looks away. "At first. Things change over a hundred years. I'd rather not talk about it."

He mentioned something like that before – something about always being second best to Angelus – but it doesn't really matter, so I don't push. Nothing about him really matters the more I think about it, because he's still adamant for that fight, one which only one of us will be walking away from. So yeah, it doesn't matter what his life's been like and what he's been doing over the past century; it'll be pointless if he dies, in the same way it'll be if _I_ die, instead.

And the more I learn about him, the more of a person he becomes – and the harder it'll be to kill him.

Xander finishes his drink and goes up to the bar to get another one. Willow and Oz continue talking. I glance sideways at Spike, and when I find him staring at me I quickly look down at my feet, trying to hide my blush. But he can probably hear it and smell it, since it's running blood, and all. Which just makes it even more embarrassing.

"Want to dance?"

I look up at him again and find him smiling. He gestures towards the dance floor.

"I…don't know." It's not that I don't feel up to it. I'm feeling a lot better than I was earlier in the day; I've stopped throwing up, my Slayer healing has kicked in and my strength, aim and vamp sense has partly returned. Spike thinks I'll have it all back by tomorrow.

It's not that which is stopping me. It's the fact that Spike, a _vampire_ , has asked me to dance. I really, really shouldn't dance with him. It's not that I haven't danced with a vampire before; I've done it when luring them in for the staking, and Dracula made me dance with him when I was under his thrall.

But it feels…different, the thought of dancing with Spike. I've already crossed so many Slayer lines with him, and this one may be crossing one too many.

At the same time, would one more really matter?

And it would be nice to dance with a good partner. I love Willow and Xander to bits, but their dancing isn't all that great; Willow's too shy to go all out and Xander's dancing leaves much to be desired. Oz isn't a dancer, and while Cordelia isn't bad she has her own beat which is different to mine.

As for Owen… Well, let's just say that the dancing was the part of our relationship I liked the least. I tried to put on a smile and go with it because all couples have flaws and faults, and a real partner should accept those flaws and faults. But Owen's dancing… He was clumsy and awkward, and he felt the need to grope me all the time with no regard for my personal space. And he used to sweat. _A lot_. Which, on a warm California night and surrounded by load of other sweaty dancers, was _so_ the last thing I needed. It made me feel horrible when the first time I danced at the Bronze after his death I was actually relieved that I would never have to dance with him again.

Somehow I know that Spike will be an amazing dance partner. Fighters usually are, because when I really think about it, fighting is just another form of dancing. And according to every book I've ever read on him, Spike is the best fighter around.

Added to that, he's practically _dripping_ with suave.

"It'll be fun," he insists, and I give in. I came here to relax. To have one night off without a care in the world. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks; I'm dancing with a vampire and I'm gonna enjoy myself.

He stands first and reaches out a hand, and I take it before allowing him to lead me onto the dance floor. When we get there I pause out of habit to give my partner a chance to catch on to the beat, but unlike all my other dance partners, Spike gets it immediately.

There's no desperate need for personal space; he stays far enough away so I'm not smothered but he's still close enough so that people around us know he's my dance partner. His right hand reaches out and he begins to gently rub his thumb up and down my left arm, while his left hand places itself at my waist, but not possessively. It's touching, but not pushing me to do anything; just moving with my ever-swaying hips.

I have no idea where to put my hands. Sometimes they're above my head like those Indian belly dances I see on the Hindi Channel while other times they're out in front of me. With Owen they were always on his chest, but that was more out of need to keep him within reasonable distance. But now… Anywhere I put my arms would be considered no-go territory.

"Just act natural, Slayer." It's like Spike can read my mind. Or he can just sense how much I'm starting to tense up at the dilemma, which is the more reasonable explanation.

I sigh, and forgetting I'm dancing with a vampire I let my hands fall where they feel like it. My right hand lands on his upper arm and hangs on while my left takes his other hand. He grins, and using our joined hands he's able to turn me around so my back is to him, and I find myself closer than before. Our lack of distance forces me to pause in shock, and thank god he can't see my face, because this blush is worse than the last one. Though like the last time, he can probably sense the sudden rush of blood.

"What are you doing?" I hiss.

"Relax," he tells me. "Take the lead."

I'm hesitant at first, but then I move my hips and he does the same, following my lead in a way I've never experienced. There's never been the problem of who leads and who doesn't with most of my partners apart from Owen, who always looked like his ego had been personally attacked whenever I took the lead in a dance. It always made me feel bad, but at the same time I wanted to lead, because that's what comes naturally to me; to lead.

Spike doesn't seem to care about any kind of male ego, since he's following me without any hesitation or any sign that he wants to take over. It's refreshingly relaxing.

"This is…nice," is all I can say. Spike just chuckles in my ear and it really hits me just how _close_ we are. But instead of feeling trapped and smothered like I did with Owen, I feel…free.

I'm able to cast a quick glance over at our table and I notice that the other two have finally returned. But instead of going back to insulting each other, both are looking our way; Xander looks about ready to jump onto the dance floor and "rescue" me but Willow is holding him back. Cordelia, on the other hand, looks like she's seething with jealousy.

That makes me feel better about the whole thing.

"Pay no attention to them," Spike whispers in my ear, having noticed me looking over at them. "Just feel. Close your eyes and _feel_."

I do. There's not really much difference light-wise, because the Bronze has always been dark, but with my eyes closed it feels more…private somehow. Like we're the only two people in the world, or at least the only two people who matter.

"Mmmm…"

"Let yourself own the night, Slayer," Spike continues to whisper. "Because you do. Both in the rage of battle, and in the heat of the dance floor. You're a creature of the night, just like the monsters you slay." I tense a little at his words. "Ah, ah. None of that, now. You know it's true. You belong in the night. It's when you're most comfortable. You belong in the day as well, 'cause you're a creature of light; it's what you represent. But the light of day is harsh. It doesn't burn you like it does us vamps – unless of course you forget to put some of that pasty sun cream on – but sometimes it's too much. You long for the night; for the time when you can truly let loose and show the world what you're really capable of. It's what you were made to do."

I let his words roll over me, and every single one of them hits true, because he's right. Day is all nice and bright, and it's where my family and friends are, but sometimes it's _too_ bright. Deep down I always long for the night; for the chance to let out all my frustration on a poor unsuspecting fledge. No one around me really understands my need to do this, not even my own Watcher, expert on all things Slayers. It's why I don't tell them; why I pretend to be annoyed with my calling and wish for a normal life, even though it's the last thing I want no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise.

It's another reason why I was so terrified when I thought I was losing my powers.

"You're really good at this, you know," I tell him, keeping my eyes closed.

He chuckles, deep and rumbly. "Hunters always make the best dancers. Why'd you think you're so good at it?"

It's what I thought about before, and it should ring alarm bells that we have the same thought process, but it really doesn't and maybe because I'm distracted by how good this feels…

And then I feel _that_.

My eyes snap open and I jump away from him like I've been burnt.

That was… I didn't think guys could be so _big_ …

But it should _not_ be doing that while dancing with me.

I keep my eyes firmly at his own eye level and tell myself not to look down. But then I wonder if looking down will be the lesser of two evils, because Spike's blue eyes are super expressive, and right now he just looks so confused and… _hurt_.

I instantly feel a little bad about my reaction, but I tell myself it's justified before I say, "What the hell was _that_?"

He blinks. "What was what?" he asks with legitimate confusion.

"I think you know _what_." I try not to look at where I'll definitely find a massive budge in his jeans. "You need to get a licence for that thing."

The confusion remains for a moment longer before his eyes widen and he quickly wraps his leather coat around himself to hide the bulge. Probably a good thing he does before I can see it. "Sorry," he apologizes, and it actually sounds like he means it. "Dancin' does things to me."

"I tried not to see that," I tell him. "We should stop now. Things got too far out of hand."

The look of apology fades away and is replaced with an angry leer. "Why stop? I can keep things under control."

"That's enough, Spike."

He steps closer to me, removing the distance between us, only this time it isn't comfortable and I feel caged. "What's the matter, Slayer? Scared things will get out of control? There's nothin' to fret over; it's no different than what we'll be doin' soon enough. Just a different kind of dance than one vamps and Slayers usually do. Come on, Slayer. I know you wanna dance."

I step back again, putting some much needed distance between us, and before Spike can remove that distance again by stepping closer Xander suddenly appears.

"Alright, that's enough," he tells Spike, and I have to admire his bravery. "If she's had enough, then she's had enough."

Spike looks at him and then back at me, and then there's this look of apology again and he backs up some more. "Guess you're right. A lady says no, she means it."

My surprise at how much like a gentleman he sounds doesn't last long, because then I spot a girl with dyed purple hair leading a guy into the alley outside, and my newly returned vamp senses are telling me that she's no ordinary girl.

I leave Xander and Spike on the dance floor and hurry over to our table. Willow must've been watching the whole thing, because when I get there she's already fished my stake out of my bag and is holding it out to me. I smile in thanks before I take it and hurry out the door.

When I get out there the girl already has the guy pinned to the wall, and I stride up behind her and yank her away by the shoulder. She's in full vamp face, and I punch her right in the nose. Her face jolts backwards, but she doesn't stumble like she would've done with my full strength, and there's a dull pain in my knuckles that tells me I won't be able to dish out many more hits before something breaks. So I take out my stake and get ready to drive it through her heart.

But I'm not fast enough and she grabs my wrist, pinning me against the wall where she was pinning the guy moments before. In the distance I see the guy fleeing for his life.

"I thought…" the vamp girl hisses, as she twists my wrist so my stake is pointed right at my neck, "…the so-called Vampire Slayer would be tougher than this."

She's suddenly yanked away before being punched across the alley. Spike turns to me. "Stake ready?"

I nod, and he grabs the vamp as she throws herself at him before holding her steady and allowing me to drive my stake through her heart. She turns to dust.

I turn to thank him, but before he can say anything he quickly side-steps. Suddenly Kendra is in front of me where Spike was standing, her stake cutting through mid-air. She turns back to Spike and attempts to punch him, but he dodges with ease along with the swings and kicks that come after. In ten seconds flat Spike has her pinned against the wall and with her own stake pressed against her heart.

"Spike!" I go to stop him but he throws the stake towards me and holds up his hand. I stop.

When he's certain I'm not going to interrupt Spike turns back to Kendra. "If I had any intention of killin' you…you'd be dead in no time at all." He lets her go and she stumbles away, eyes wide at what just happened. I've never seen her so… _not_ stoic. Spike turns back to me. "This is the other Slayer you've been tellin' me about? She's not gonna last another bleedin' _week_ if she keeps this up. Her Council taught moves might work on the fledges, but against a Master vampire she's got no hope."

"Actually she took out Kakistos when she first came here." I pick up Kendra's stake and hand it to her. That's the only time she acknowledges me, and then she's back to charging at Spike like she's on auto-pilot. "Kendra…" I'm not even panicked now. Just kind of annoyed but how well she's _not_ taking the hint.

Spike rolls his eyes, grabs her stake-holding hand, twists it behind her back and squeezes hard enough so she drops her stake again. He catches it before it can hit the ground and then pushes the younger Slayer away. "If I didn't have a truce with Summers, I'd kill you just so the world could get a _real_ Slayer." He nods at me. "Like her."

My face flushes at his words. The Slayer of Slayers is calling _me_ a real Slayer, despite the fact that technically, the Slayer line runs through Kendra, meaning _she's_ actually the real Slayer. Maybe not from Spike's point of view.

Kendra turns to me, and while her face is mostly stoic there's anger in her eyes. "You made a truce with this animal?" she asks in her thick Jamaican accent.

Spike scoffs. "Don't know many animals that can talk."

"I guess no one told you what happened," I say. "The reason I lost my powers was because Giles took them away. On a Slayer's eighteenth birthday she's given a test that forces her to use intelligence and creativity instead of strength in order to defeat a foe. I was locked up in the Sunnydale Arms and Spike was supposed to be my opponent, but since he's opposed to killing weakened Slayers he didn't play along."

Kendra's anger fades but not completely, and she regards me with surprise. "Such a test is not in the handbook."

"The test is kept a secret by the Watchers," I tell her. "I don't really know why. You'd think a Slayer would benefit from being told." I sigh. "At least you know now so it doesn't take you by surprise when it happens to you."

Spike barks out a laugh. "You actually believe she's gonna last that long?" I go to remind him of what I just said, but he interrupts. "Killin' Kakistos isn't much of a victory. He may be old by he's not much of a fighter and relied too much on the old ways." He nods towards Kendra. "She's nothin' more than a Council lackey; a lapdog trained to do their biddin' with no questions asked, and one of these days it's gonna get her killed."

She glares at Spike, but she must have some sense because she doesn't attack him again. "Why should I listen to the words of a vampire?"

"Maybe 'cause this vamp has killed some of your kind, fought more than you can count on one finger, and has a better understandin' of Slayers than even _you_."

"Spike…" I frown when I repeat his words in my head. "Some? Does that mean you actually _did_ kill the third?"

He rolls his eyes. "Sod this. I'm goin' for a drink." With that he throws Kendra's stake down at her feet before he turns and walks away, heading probably for Willy's. I don't bother to stop him, trusting that he won't kill anyone. And it'll be best if he's not here right now.

"Why would you make a truce with William the Bloody?!" Kendra demands.

"Maybe because he didn't condemn me to death like _Giles_ did!" I snap back.

Kendra raises her chin. "He must be luring you into a false sense of security."

"They teach you that in Slayer school?" I roll my eyes. "Use your brain, Kendra! First you say he's an animal, and then you say he's smart enough to plan something like that. Which is it?"

"It does not matter which it is. He is a killer, and a killer of our kind. The enemy." She picks up her stake. "The last Slayer Spike killed was a woman named Nikki Wood. She is the only known Slayer who had a child; a son. According to the Watchers' diaries, he was only four years old when Spike killed his mother. Think about that – the vampire you are allowing to walk away killed a child's _mother_."

She leaves me alone with my thoughts…which are slowly turning into regrets.

I've been thinking of Spike as some kind of dark hero; someone who has good in him…when he's actually a killer, and one who plans on killing me very soon. I've known that, and I've been trying to ignore that fact until now.

But I can't ignore it any longer. Spike's a killer. And I need to be ready to fight him.


	9. Chapter Nine: A Death Wish

**Chapter Notes** : So I was embarrassed to discover that I had three whole chapters written of this story, waiting to be uploaded. This is the first. I'm aiming to get more written before I post the other two, but we'll see how things go.

* * *

I know the moment I wake up that my powers have returned to me. It's also how I know that Spike isn't in the house unlike yesterday morning. So either he came back after I did and left again, or he didn't come back at all. My money's on the latter.

I can't bring myself to be upset; again, unlike yesterday. I know what I have to do today, and without him around it'll be much easier.

I get up, shower, change, and then head down for breakfast. Dawn is sat with a bowl of cereal in front of her, looking miserable, and Mom is washing up. I pour my own bowl of cereal, actually choosing the wholegrain stuff Mom made me eat yesterday – because I know I'm gonna need all the energy I can get – before I sit down next to Dawn.

"Where's Spike?" is the first question she asks. So that's why she looks miserable.

"I don't know," I reply honestly. "There was an incident with Kendra last night."

"She tried to stake him?" As Dawn asks this Mom turns as well. She looks just as worried as Dawn does. How has Spike made this kind of impression on them in the short time they've known him? Granted he's sorta made the same impression on me…but I've woken up. Spike may have saved me, but he's a Slayer killer.

I nod. "But Spike stopped her. There was yelling and then he stalked away in a big, manly huff." I decide not to tell either of them about the dance, because that's something I wanna forget about, like, _right now_. "I'm sure he's around somewhere."

"But it's daylight," Mom points out.

I shrug. "He could be at Willy's. Or he found a crypt or an abandoned factory to lay low in. He's a master vampire who's been around for over a century; he's fine."

Dawn actually _sulks_. "I wanted him to tell me more stories about his past. History's _way_ more fun when he's doing the telling instead of my teacher."

I wince, not wanting to think about what kind of gory stories Spike could potentially tell my little sister. It doesn't help when I look at both Mom and Dawn and remember Kendra's words from last night. The mental image of Spike killing Mom with a young Dawn watching enters my brain, and I quickly shake it away.

Spike killed a mother. He depraved a little boy – age four, an age when he probably didn't even understand what was going on – of his mother. Did the boy have a father? Kendra didn't mention one. And if he didn't, does that mean he ended up in an orphanage? I try not to think too hard about it.

But I need to know more. I need to prepare myself for what I'm gonna face. My powers are back; no doubt that Spike knows this too – he was the one who said they were coming back today, after all – and tonight he'll be coming for me. He'll be wanting that fight.

Knowing what I have to do, I put my empty bowl in the sink before I walk over to the phone and pick it up.

* * *

An hour after I make the call Lydia stops by with what I need.

"Thanks for this," I tell her, taking the three books she's brought over. "I didn't think you'd get my message."

"Things have been hectic," says Lydia. "I would have been longer, but Giles and I were already looking through the Watchers diaries."

I frown. "Why?"

"Someone left a message, telling us to look at the diary of every Slayer who has lived long enough to face the Cruciamentum," she explains. "I do not quite understand why William the Bloody would want us too, but he has always been a strange vampire, so he must have his reasons."

"Wait… _Spike_ left you a message?"

She nods. "I should also mention that Giles told me what really happened. I knew I was right; William the Bloody would never participate in a Cruciamentum. It goes against everything he stands for. A fascinating vampire, if I do say so myself."

"Very," I agree. I look down at the books she's given me. "These look pretty new…"

"They are copies of the originals," says Lydia. "The diary of Xin Rong was written in Chinese, and the diary of Sophie Carstensen was written in Danish. What you have are the English translations. The diary of Nikki Wood was written in English but Giles and I are studying the original copy."

"Why?"

"Nikki Wood took the test, as well," Lydia replies. "In fact, so far in our research, she is the only Slayer to have survived the test. That may be because her Watcher refused to give her the suppressant on the grounds that she was pregnant, feeling that would be enough to slow her down."

My eyes widen. "She did it while she was _pregnant_?"

"Early stages, mind you," says Lydia. "They had only just discovered it."

"She was the only one…" I look down at my feet.

Lydia sighs. "We have yet to look through them all. Do not worry. I am sure there will be more examples the further we look."

But I'm not so sure. Taking away a Slayer's powers and then forcing her to fight a monster… I can't imagine any Slayer surviving something like that, especially if the Council pitted them against vampires the same as Spike; dangerous and well known.

And why does Spike want them to research the previous Slayers? The question bugs me as I say goodbye to Lydia and take the books up into my room. I can't ask Spike tonight because I doubt he'd be really forthcoming with answers, mostly because he'll be too busy fighting me but also because if it's a reason he'd tell me, then he would've told Lydia and Giles, too. Well, maybe just Lydia.

I decide to push the question to the back of my mind as I set the books down, take a seat and open the first one.

* * *

I don't know what draws me to the Bronze. Instinct, maybe. Somehow I know that's where Spike will be.

I told my friends not to come out tonight. They insisted, but I lied and said there was a good chance one of them would get hurt, because there would be extra vamps out tonight. A result of not having patrolled for a few days, and while I know Kendra took care of a lot of the vamps, Spike's right; she's not very good.

Plus, she doesn't know this town, or the vamps in it. I do.

I couldn't tell my friends the real reason why I don't want them here. Nor did I tell Mom and Dawn what I'll be doing tonight. I want them to have a good memory of Spike; to see him as the hero who saved my life and went against his nature to do so. If I stake him, then they'll be none the wiser; I can tell them that he skipped town to re-join his family.

Of course, that plan won't work if he ends up killing me.

Though unlike what I thought before – that I won't be able to kill him and he'd probably kill me because of that – I think I can do it now. Reading those diaries helped. It kind of makes me wish I'd read them before, back when I was researching the Aurelian line.

He killed Xin Rong during the Boxer Rebellion. He and the rest of his family had been there, turning their Scourge of Europe into a Scourge of Asia. Xin's Watcher thought this was what set off the rebellion; European-looking people killing Chinese people, though there are other details which I skimmed over and he was only speculating, anyway. Xin had set out into the night amid the fire and the chaos to put a stop to the vampires, but only found Spike. She fought him with an enchanted sword, leaving a scar on his left eyebrow – one he still has, I remember – but somehow he got the better of her. He drank from her and left the body in some kind of temple.

Unlike a lot of Slayers I've read about, Xin had a family. Being the Slayer was a big thing back in those days in China, apparently, and her entire family knew of her calling. They supported her; were proud of her. I know Mom is proud of me too and supports me the best she can, but I also know that part of her is worried for my safety and wants me to stop doing it. Something I can't do.

Xin's family, according to the diary, were devastated by her death. They wanted to hunt down the vampire who'd done it, but by that time Spike had already left with the rest of his family. And then by the time word got around that it had been Spike who'd killed her, Xin's family had been killed in the rebellion.

Spike had killed a girl with a family without any regard for that family whatsoever. Will he think of my family and friends when he fights me tonight? Will he consider what could happen to them if I die?

The diary of Sophie Carstensen was even more depressing. The girl was born in Denmark and was the Slayer when the Second World War broke out. She and her Watcher turned their attentions to fighting the Nazis rather than demons, though this unfortunately led to the Nazis taking an interest in her; they thought she held the key to creating the perfect soldier. And since they didn't believe in magic, only science, she was captured and experimented on.

Reports of what happened to her afterwards are sketchy at best. It's why the Watchers aren't sure if Spike killed her or not, and the only reason they believe he did was because they thought Sophie ended up on the same submarine as Drusilla. The same one which, as Spike told me before, sunk due to the actions of himself and Angelus. So even if he didn't kill her directly, he still played a part in her demise. But then again, he never bragged about killing her, so maybe he didn't have any part in it at all.

It's the diary of Nikki Wood that stands out from the other two.

She was, and still is, the longest living Slayer. She lived to be twenty-two years old, and as far as the Watchers are aware, she was also the only Slayer to have a child; a son, who she gave birth to when she was eighteen. According to her Watcher, he was the reason she lived for so long; the need to protect him, and the want to come home to him every night was what kept her going.

Until Spike killed her.

It happened during their second encounter. Their first encounter, in a park in New York, happened when Nikki's son, Robin, had been there. He hid himself while Nikki and Spike fought. Spike fled the scene and Nikki took Robin home. The next night she left to face Spike, and she didn't return. Her body was later found on the subway, her neck snapped, but Spike hadn't taken any blood.

He took her coat, though – it's the same one he's wearing now.

Right now.

I spot him working his way through the dancers. He's not looking for a snack, though. There's no question who he's looking for: Me.

I'm stood on the balcony looking down, and just when he's about to pass under me he looks up and our eyes meet. His are so blue and intense that it makes me shiver, but not in fear. I don't understand how a vampire can have eyes like that; so expressive, like windows to where his soul should be.

He doesn't have to say anything. Instead his eyebrow – the scarred one – rises, and it's a silent signal. He then breaks eye contact and carries on his way. I don't have to look to know that he's heading outside.

That's what the silent signal meant.

I climb down the steps and head outside, too. The alley is empty and I can't see him, but I can feel him; he's here somewhere, hiding. Why is he hiding? I thought he wanted a fight? Spike doesn't seem like the kind of vampire who would hide.

Suddenly he grabs my arm from behind and turns me, clutching my other arm when I'm facing him. He holds me in place. "Lesson the First: A Slayer must always reach for her weapon." He shifts into his game face, which for some reason, doesn't frighten me. Unlike with other vampires, I don't feel like I'm looking into the face of a demon. I'm just looking at Spike. "I've already got mine."

I yank away from him and take out the stake that's been sitting in my back pocket. "So, is this it? We fight?"

It takes me by surprise when he shakes his game face back off and smirks. "Not yet. I wanna have a talk first. How's your day been?"

A talk? We're talking now? OK, so we've been talking since Friday night, so it shouldn't be weird. But it feels weird now because I'm at full strength and we're supposed to be fighting. Isn't that what Spike wanted? A fight?

"I've been busy," I reply finally. "Researching. You should be familiar with the subject matter: You. And the Slayers you killed."

His grin widens. "Well done. It's what you _should_ do. Though if you were lookin' for a blow-for-blow description for you to map out and memorize, then clearly you've been left disappointed. It's not about the moves, after all."

"Then what's it about?" I ask.

"Winnin' and losin'," he replies. "And which one you want most."

I frown. "Why would I want to lose?"

His eyebrow quirks up again. "You tell me."

Yeah, that's not annoying at all. "Those girls had families," I bring up. "Two of them did, anyway. And you didn't care. You took both of them away from their families, and you didn't even give a thought for them. Are you thinking about _my_ family right now? About my friends? About what they'll do without me if you do what you came here to do?"

For a brief second something falters in his expression, but it's gone as quickly as it came and her masks it with an eye-roll. "Your job is the same as a soldier's, or a fire-fighter's, or a policeman's. Your family and friends know you could die any day. Part of them may've already made peace with the fact. As for the Slayers…if they wanted to survive, they would've done. But they didn't. What does that tell you?"

"That you killed them?" I can't hide the glare now.

He shakes his head. "But _how_ did I kill them?"

I blink. What? "Why are you asking me? You're the one who did it."

"You're not gettin' the point, luv," he says. "The question isn't 'how'd I win?' It's 'why'd they lose?'"

"There's a difference?"

He steps forwards, closing the distance between us and leaning in so our faces are only inches apart. "There's a big difference."

I take several steps back, putting the distance back between us, where it belongs. "You make killing Slayers sound like an art form instead of _murder_. Why'd you start doing it?"

He shrugs. "Boredom. After Dru turned me Angelus tried to make me like him; tried to get me to appreciate things like 'patience'. He takes his time with kills, you see. Makes his victims go insane with fear before he feeds on them. But I never listened. It wasn't excitin' enough for me. I loved brawls. The bigger the fight, the more excitin' it is. 'Course it wasn't long before I picked a fight too big and got us all in trouble. We ended up hidin' in a mine up in Yorkshire, and Angelus nearly staked me for the trouble I'd caused. He warned me that one day I'd catch the attention of a Slayer."

"Surprised you didn't until twenty years later," I comment. It was about twenty years after he'd been turned that he killed his first Slayer. Why he didn't fight one before then I'll never know.

He shrugs in agreement. "I asked what a Slayer was, and he told me. Maybe he hoped that I'd change my attitude, and if so, his bright little plan backfired spectacularly. Until then I'd fought humans and maybe some other vamps and demons. But the Slayer…" His eyes turn skyward. "She was the ultimate battle. I was obsessed. I mean, to most vampires the Slayer was the subject of cold sweats and frightened whispers. But I never hid. Hell, I sought her out. I mean, if you're lookin' for fun, there's death, there's glory, and sod all else, right? I was young."

I don't say that he's mentioned this to me before, back on that first night when we were sat on the floor in the dark and abandoned building. "It had to be more than boredom," I ask. "I mean, you risk your unlife fighting them just because you're bored."

He looks away, a dark expression crossing his face. So there _is_ more to it, I realize. But I also realize that he's not gonna tell me anytime soon, meaning I'll probably never know. "I didn't have anything else to do. With the whole of eternity laid out before you, you've gotta find a hobby."

"You think of killing Slayers as your _hobby_?!"

"No!" He shakes his head. "I didn't mean it like that."

Fair enough. "And you got good enough to know how to do it. So why _did_ they lose?"

He leans against the wall and looks away. Somehow I know he's thinking back to the fights he had; the Slayers he fought. "Xing Rong was good, but she was all business. Nikki Wood had style. Bit like you, I s'pose. Probably why she lived for so long. She was cunnin', resourceful, and did I mention, hot? I could've danced all night with that one."

At the mention of 'dance' my cheeks turn red, and I push away the memories of last night. "You think it's a dance?"

"It's all a Slayer's ever done," he says. "The bad thing about dancin' for a Slayer is she never gets to stop. Every day she wakes up to the same bloody question that haunts her: 'Is today the day I die?'" Once again he crosses the distance between us, and his eyes are so intense that I can't move away; I can't _look_ away. "Death is always on her heels. And sooner or later, it catches her. Part of her wants it. Not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because she's just a little bit in love with it. Death is her art. She makes it with her hands day after day. That final gasp; that look of peace. And part of her is desperate to know… What's it like? Where does it lead? And that's the secret; not the punch she didn't throw or the kicks she didn't land. She merely wanted it. Every Slayer has a death wish."

I stumble back. Why would a Slayer _want_ to die? But even when I ask the question I know why; it's because life is hard. It's a constant battle. I know that because I'm living it…and I've wondered sometimes, on dark nights when I'm alone with no one to talk to or to distract me, if it would really be so bad if I died.

Xin Rong wanted it; she was tired of trying to live up to the expectations of her family, carrying the burden of what they hoped she would become. Sophie Carstensen wanted it; the war was horrible, worse than fighting demons, and she wanted it to end one way or another. Nikki Wood wanted it; no matter how much she loved her son she worried that she would one day get him killed if he carried on slaying. All three of them expressed these doubts to their Watchers, and their Watchers wrote them down in the diaries.

But even though I know it's true…it's still a horrible thing to realize.

I don't realize I'm crying until I try to speak, and my words come out in slight sobs. "So that's it, then? That's how you're gonna kill me? You're gonna use some sick and twisted death wish I have against me?!"

That's when his expression changes. Throughout the entire conversation he's looked, for a lack of a better word, smug. In a nicer way, he's the teacher and I'm the student. He's been holding the power over me. But now his expression softens, and he backs away to give me space. "No. Because you don't have a death wish."

It feels like the whole world's stopped.

Wait…what? "But…you…you just said…"

"Every other Slayer I've encountered had a death wish," he tells me. "You're the first who _doesn't_. You got friends, mum, sister, Watcher; reasons to live. They keep you happy and wantin' to continue fightin', 'cause if you're not fightin' for them then who will? They all tie you here. And it's not just them; it's you, too. You're strong, your heart is the biggest I've seen, and you don't back down from a soddin' fight even when the whole world's against you. Two nights ago you punched me even when you knew it wasn't gonna do you any good. But you still did it anyway. Knew you had a rep before, but now… I've asked around, and from what I've collected, you're the best damn Slayer I've ever encountered. And I've encountered more than I've killed."

I stand rooted to the spot as his words rush over me. I'm the best Slayer he's ever encountered? I don't have a death wish? Does this mean he's not going to kill me, or even try?

"So what happens now?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Still wanna fight you. You'd be the best I've ever had. Not gonna kill you, though – 'cause I can't. Won't do it tonight. You need to rest up for tomorrow."

Tomorrow. The Watchers. But… "Why do I need to rest?"

He turns to walk away, but he pauses and spins back to face me. "Things are gonna come to light that you need to be prepared for." Then he walks away and disappears into the night.


	10. Chapter Ten: Realizations

**Chapter Notes** : Sorry it's been so long again. I was hoping to write some more of this story in advance before I posted this chapter, but writer's block is still giving me trouble, and other stuff cropped up to keep me distracted. I have another chapter written and ready, but I don't know when I'll post it.

* * *

I get ready for school as slowly as I can. The way I figure, the slower I go the longer it'll take me to get there, and the longer it'll be before I face the Watchers. Of course, the downside is that I have to spend longer thinking of the ninety-five ways the meeting can go wrong, which really doesn't help matters at all.

The other downside is that being slow means being _late_ , which will just get things off to a bad start. The Watchers are stuffy and British, and I doubt any of them have ever been late a day in their boring lives.

I just can't help the worry building up inside me. It was already there before, but Spike's words last night have permanently engraved themselves into my brain. He said that things are gonna come to light that I need to be prepared for. And apparently, they're bad enough to warrant him not fighting me last night, obviously wanting me to keep up my strength.

And then there's the thing with Giles and Lydia, and wanting them to research previous Slayers who have taken the test. Why does he need them to research this? What does he think that'll achieve?

There's also what Lydia said yesterday; that only one other Slayer has survived the test. But they hadn't even looked in the other diaries at that point, so maybe they found more. Part of me isn't so sure, but I have to hope. I can't think about what it could mean if I'm the only one who survived besides Nikki Wood – the same Slayer who Spike killed.

I finally arrive at school and make straight for the library. I already told the others what's going on, so they know not to converge in the library like usual. The last thing I need to worry about is my friends hearing something they shouldn't. And I don't think the Watchers would appreciate them hanging around and listening to information they'd no doubt deem 'private'.

When I enter the library I find Lydia and Giles already there, talking in hushed voices. There's no sign of the other Watchers yet, but it shouldn't be long now.

Both Watchers turn when I enter, and I try not to make eye contact with Giles. I'm still mad at him, after all. He'll have to do a lot more than he's already done if he wants to earn my trust again. But I notice the look of regret, sorrow and shame all rolled into one, which I guess is another step in the right direction.

"Buffy," Lydia addresses me. "Travers will be here shortly."

"Whoopee." I place my bag on the table and take out the three diaries I borrowed. "Here."

Lydia takes them and hands them to Giles, who'll no doubt start reorganizing them in that over-the-top manner he always does. Why does he insist that every book has to go back to their correct place? "You found them useful?" asks Lydia.

I nod. "Eye-openers." When I see Giles about to open his mouth, I beat him to the punch. "If you say 'I told you so' I'll break your glasses. And while Spike may have done some bad things in his past, it's at least expected from him. He's a vampire. I expected him to be the villain of the week – not my Watcher. I still trust Spike more than you right now."

Giles closes his eyes with a sigh. "You are at full strength now. No doubt he will want to finish the job himself." He takes his glasses off and begins to clean them.

"I thought the same last night. Until he told me he doesn't want to kill me."

One of the lenses of his glasses pops right out, but Giles doesn't notice. He just stares at me with wide eyes and his jaw hanging open. "It's a lie."

"Spike is a terrible liar," says Lydia. "He has even admitted it on several occasions. So if he says that he does not want to kill you, Buffy, then he means it. But that is out of character in itself; why would he not want to kill you now that you are at full strength?"

I take a seat. "He told me about how he killed those two Slayers," I say. "He said that it wasn't about the moves or what he did to win; he took advantage of something he calls a death wish. He says that every Slayer has one." Giles goes to open his mouth again, but once again, I stop him before he can speak. "They do. Being a Slayer is hard, so it'd make sense that they'd want their lives to end. They kill all night long, bringing death to every demon they face…until they want it themselves. I know it's true because I've thought about it myself; I've wondered what it would be like to just let it end."

"Buffy-"

I hold up a finger and Giles stops talking. "I've _thought_ about it. That's all. But Spike says that I don't have a death wish. My family and friends are enough to keep me alive. He said…he said I'm the best Slayer he's ever met. He wants to fight me still…but he doesn't want to kill me."

Giles and Lydia can only stare.

"It is unprecedented," Lydia finally says.

"It shouldn't be possible," says Giles.

I shrug. "That's what he said, and I'm pretty sure he's telling the truth. If he wanted to kill me then he would've tried last night. He had the perfect chance, but he didn't take it. He could've just fought me last night but he didn't, either; he said I need my strength for today, and that…some things are going to come to light." I look at the pile of books that Giles has started sorting through. "Are those Watcher diaries?"

"Yes." He nods. "I still cannot understand why Spike, of all people, would insist that we look through these. The test has been carried out, however invalid it became, and I highly doubt Travers would want to conduct another now that you are in the know, Buffy."

"There has to be something we have missed," says Lydia, joining Giles by his side.

I dare to ask, "Did any other Slayers survive, other than Nikki Wood?"

The silence says more than words could.

"Not many Slayers lived to the age of eighteen, anyway," says Lydia. "But yes…those that did were killed during the test. Nikki Wood is the only one who did not, and only because her Watcher did not issue her the suppressant, like I said before."

Giles finally notices that a lense has popped out of his glasses and proceeds to try and fix it. "A vampire he may be, I highly doubt Spike would go through the trouble of all this if there is nothing to find. It simply doesn't make sense. But what is it?"

"Bloody hell. I thought you Watchers were smarter than this."

The voice cuts through the tension of the library just as my vamp senses tingle, and we all turn to the top level to see Spike, obviously having just come out from the back. How he got there I don't know, probably through some clever vampire sneaking technique.

"How on earth did you get in here?" Giles is the first to demand, asking what I'm thinking, only I'm thinking it in a nicer way.

"Not important," he says. "You should really consider gettin' a witch to do some mojo on the school to stop vamps gettin' in. I know it's a public place, but any old vamp can wander in and snack on the unsuspectin' teens in attendance. School's already hell enough for them."

"The Hellmouth is right below us," I supply with a smile.

Spike looks down at the floor as his eyebrows rise. "So that's what that is." He begins to descend the stairs furthest away from the window and the harmful rays of the sun.

"If you're not going to tell us how you got in here, then please at least tell us _why_ ," says Giles. He doesn't look panicked now; just annoyed.

"Thought you might want some backup for the inevitable fallout," Spike replies.

"What fallout do you speak of?" asks Lydia.

Spike's eyes meet hers and he smirks. "Lovely to finally meet you in person, Lydia. That photo doesn't do you any justice."

Lydia blushes and looks away. Giles promptly takes his glasses back off and lets his head fall in his hand.

And I'm left confused in the middle of it. "Wait, what?"

"Mentioned before that I knew her," says Spike. "See, at the Watchers Academy I have my own little…fan club, so to speak. Mostly consisting of women – and a few men, from what I recall. And while she was at the Academy, your lovely Principal was co-leader. She was in charge of sendin' me fan mail, which included pictures. Some of which lacked clothes." He leers.

Lydia's blush deepens, instantly confirming the truth.

So…Spike has _fans_? At the _Watchers Academy_?

Including my _Principal_?

And they sent him _naked photos_?

If only Faith was here now. It definitely explains Lydia's obsession with him. I thought maybe the reason she knows so much about him was because of that thesis thing she had to write, but now I'm realizing that maybe she _chose_ to write the thesis on him because she had a _crush_ on him.

But honestly, I don't blame her. Spike is sex on a stick.

And _oh my god_ , did I really just _think_ that?

Spike's chuckle isn't helping me send my blush away.

Giles thankfully ends this…whatever it is before things get out of hand. "Can we please get back to the matter at hand? What do you mean by 'fallout'?"

"You won't know what I mean until you figure it out," says Spike. "Thought you would've done by now, but obviously you need me to spell it out for you. What are the similarities of all the Slayers who faced the test?"

"They died," I tell him.

He rolls his eyes. "Know that. What else? Think back to everything you read, Watchers. What did all those Slayers have in common?"

"They were…rash," says Giles.

Lydia nods in agreement. "They did not always listen to their Watchers. Sometimes they made their own choices and their own calls."

"Every Watcher described them as out of control and rebellious," Giles adds. "Very much… They were all very much like Buffy."

"And it's the reason they all lived longer than the average Slayer," says Spike. "That other Slayer tried to attack me the other night. She was ridiculously easy to subdue, and the reason for that is because she was usin' Council taught tactics. Her moves were predictable and old; traditional. Against the average fledge that would work, but against a more powerful demon like myself… Well, had I wanted to I could've killed her then and there. The Slayers who obey die young. The Slayers who don't… Well, they live longer – and the longer they live for, the more they start to question the world around them."

"Question?" I send him a confused look.

He turns to me. "Why do you let me live, Slayer? Even now at your full strength? Why did you defend me against your Watcher?"

I start to see what he's getting at. "Because I realized that you're not a mindless killer. You chose not to kill me."

"In other words, you used your brain and made your own call," says Spike. "That other girl didn't even ask the question; she saw that I was a vamp and she attacked without thinkin'. Many a Slayer has died attackin' demons when they shouldn't have done, and they paid the price for it."

"What is your point?" asks Lydia.

Spike points at his head. " _Think_. Both you Watchers know that when you first introduce a Potential or Slayer to the world of demons, you tell them they're all evil, and that they all need to be killed. You Watchers train your Slayers to kill without question; you point out a demon, and she slays it. Wash, rinse, repeat. But then some get older and they think that some of the demons shouldn't be killed; that some are peaceful and can be left alone. They start refusin' to take orders. The two of you seem to encourage this with Buffy, but what about the other Watchers? What do they think about all this?"

"Wesley was not happy at all," says Giles. "He said it's not the way it's supposed to be. I believe he reported back to Travers about it."

Spike nods. "Now here's what ties it all together. Imagine you're one such Watcher; your Slayer is, by your own admission, out of control. She's not killin' the demons you want her to kill because she thinks she shouldn't. She's startin' to question your words that demons are incapable of love. She's usin' her head and openin' her eyes. But you don't want that; you want her to continue stakin' wherever you point like a good little Slayer. You realize that the problem continues to grow the older she gets. So you decide to get rid of her, but since she's a Slayer, you have to do it carefully. Disguise it as something she wouldn't see comin'. Turnin' eighteen is a big deal anywhere in the world. So you create an unbeatable test in which her powers are taken and she's forced to fight an enemy she cannot hope to defeat. It's something you know she'll never survive. Problem solved; she's dead and gone, and you get a new Slayer who follows orders like you think she should."

Everything is silent.

I stare at Spike, unable to process what he's just said.

Both lenses of Giles's glasses pop out – but like before, he doesn't notice.

Lydia can only stare in horror.

Out of all the scenarios I imagined, I never even suspected this. The Watchers Council are supposed to help Slayers. I may never see eye to eye with them, but our goals are the same: to save the world and protect the innocent from vampires and demons. That's how it's supposed to work.

But this…

I can't comprehend this.

The Watchers Council wants to kill me.


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Fallout

**Chapter Notes** : So this is the last pre-written chapter I have. I'm not sure when I'll get more written, but hopefully you all won't have to wait too long.

* * *

I'm not really sure how much time passes, but Giles is the first to break the silence. "You cannot be serious! Why on earth would the Watchers Council want to kill their own Slayers? Saying such a thing is unthinkable."

Part of me hopes he's right; that the Watchers Council isn't trying to kill me. It'd be like Mom discovering that everyone else at the gallery wants to kill her. But at the same time, the Council never liked me. They never liked that I have friends, or that I don't obey them like they think a Slayer should. So yeah, it wouldn't be surprising if they really do want to kill me.

Doesn't make it any less shocking, though.

Spike's eyes narrow as he stares Giles down. "Use your bloody brain, mate. Why else would the Council create the test?"

"For the reason they said; to test the Slayer, and help her make use of her intelligence and cunning in battle," says Giles. "Not having her powers would force her to rely on such methods, which she would then employ in the field alongside her other assets."

"On paper, that's what it sounds like," Spike explains. "And maybe if they set her up against a fledge or a weaker demon, and actually _told_ her about it, then it could work. But they don't, do they? No, the Council brings in the badest of the bad just to make sure they get the job done. Come on, Watcher; your boss brought in _me_ , someone who's killed Slayers at full strength. He must really hate your Slayer. And if the test was really important and could help Slayers, how come none of them ever survived?"

"Nikki did," I mention.

Spike nods. "Since you've read up on her, you know why she did. No poison. One of the reasons I went after her was 'cause I'd heard she'd survived the test. My opinion of her didn't change after I heard how."

"How do you even know of the test?" asks Lydia. "I knew you would never accept one only because you prefer to fight fair. I was not aware of your knowledge of it."

"Word gets around." He shrugs. "Heard from a demon whose mate had been asked, and I wanted to do it myself. Got there, but once I investigated proper and realized exactly what was goin' on, I walked away. Didn't stand for it." He shakes his head. "Even tried to warn the bloody Slayer, but she didn't want to know. Didn't bother to stick around after that."

It hurts a little that he didn't do more to help that Slayer, but then again, Spike isn't a hero. He may not have killed me, but it's clear that he doesn't make a habit of allowing Slayers to live. And if the Slayer he confronted didn't listen to him – and probably tried to stake him – then I can see why he left her to die.

I find myself watching Giles carefully; judging by the look in his eyes, it's starting to sink in. And if _he_ thinks that Spike is telling the truth… "The purpose of the Council is to train the Slayer and assist her in fighting the evils of the world. We are on the same side. Why would they kill her? It's a waste of a life and a warrior. Surely they should realize her worth in that she has lived for longer than the others?"

"The Council are controllin' wankers who want things done _their_ way," Spike replies. "Never said they'd switched sides. They just want things done the way they think it's s'posed to be. Do you know the Slayer's origins?"

"It is taught at the Academy," says Lydia. "Only once, and never mentioned again."

I look between them all. "Why?"

It's Giles who replies. "The first Slayer was created thousands of years ago. A group of men – the Shadow Men, they called themselves – came together to create a warrior strong enough to fight the vampires and demons who had invaded this world. They knew that the only way to fight demons was to use equal power…so they took the essence of a demon and placed it inside the girl they chose. Sineya, I believe her name was."

So there's… _demon_ in me?

Lydia must see my widening eyes, so says, "You are still very much human, Buffy. Every Slayer is still human. The essence of the demon is like…steroids, putting it crudely. Something that only enhances."

"Still in you, though," says Spike. "Can't deny that."

It makes me feel a little better knowing that I'm still human, but Spike's right, too. The thing that makes the Slayer – the essence of a demon – is still in me. The Slayer is part of me, meaning that the essence is part of me. And really, at the end of the day, what I _do_ with the power is what matters.

"What has the Slayer's origins got to do with all this?" asks Giles, getting us back on track.

"Think about it." Spike taps his head. "Those men could've done it to a bloke; could've made a warrior who, in those days, would've been stronger. Men are the stronger sex, and all that rot. But they didn't; instead they chose a skinny little girl and forced her to fight monsters until the rest of her tribe saw her as a monster herself. Now, what does that tell you?"

"That the Shadow Men are big meanies for doing that to a girl?" I pipe up.

He smirks. "Close. It's about _power_. The men needed a warrior, but they needed one they could _control_. If they gave another man the power there was the chance he'd turn against them, but a girl… This was at a time when women were nothin' more than possessions; they only cooked and washed and had littler people. Women could be controlled."

"I was always told that the Slayer is female because she looks weak, and a demon would think little of her until it was too late," says Lydia.

He nods. "That's part of it, yeah. But power and control was the biggest reason. Remember that it hasn't been very long since women have been gettin' their rights; at least to me it feels like that. But I've lived longer, so…" He shrugs. "It's also why the Watchers want to find Potentials when they're young, so they can train them to obey. 'Course even then some started to ask questions."

"So it's about power," I say. "They want power and control over the Slayers."

Spike nods. "They want to _control_ the power. The Slayer holds the _real_ power. The Council are nothin' without the Slayer; they don't fight the battles themselves, and most choose to sit behind a desk. Rather let their Slayers _die_ than lift a finger to help them. They act all high and mighty, but it's a front. They _know_ the Slayer holds the power, and they want control over her. If they feel they're losin' that control, they kill the Slayer and hope the next one is better." He crosses the gap between up and lays a hand on my shoulder. "They don't own you, pet. They never did. And it's about time you make them see that."

I can't help gazing into his intense eyes, and I see something in them that I never thought I'd see: admiration. Somehow I feel the power of the Slayer stir inside me, like his words are having an effect on it, and I decide that he's right; the Council don't own me. I'm not some slave they can order around, or some pack mule they can whip and then kill when I no longer do as they ask. It's time to make a stand.

"Is that why they are calling this meeting?" asks Lydia. "Have they come to finish the job themselves?"

Spike turns away from me and shrugs. "They let Nikki live. Then again she was a pissed off pregnant Slayer. Pissin' off _any_ pregnant woman is a bad idea. The Council are wankers, but they're not _that_ stupid."

"And I highly doubt they would have been willing to kill an unborn child," Giles points out.

"But I'm not pregnant," I point out.

"I know," says Spike. "That's what I'm worried about." And looking back into his eyes…he really _does_ look worried. Which should be totally wiggy, but isn't. And that makes it wiggier.

I don't know why he's worrying. If the Council _is_ still trying to kill me, then they wouldn't do it in broad daylight and in the middle of a school. They may have a lot of influence but I doubt they'd be able to get away with it right now.

I'm less sure of this when I hear footsteps coming down the hall. And since it'll be another hour before classes are let out, the chorus must belong to the Council.

Mouth open to speak again I turn to Spike, only to discover that he's gone. I didn't even hear him go. Maybe if I ask nicely he'll consider wearing a bell in the future. Since I still feel tingles at the back of my neck, he hasn't gone far. Probably best that he stays out of sight for now; I'm already in enough trouble, and having a nice talk with the "enemy" will only make matters worse.

The two men I didn't recognize at the Inn walk in first, and they hold the doors open for Travers. He steps inside like he owns the building. Behind him are Wesley and Kendra, who go to stand off to the right of me and out of the way, and behind them are two more men. Four men I don't recognize, and none of them look welcoming or hospitable. I don't see any weapons on them, but they could be concealed.

The four men stand either side of Travers – two to the left, two to the right – and the Head of the Council is the first to speak. "I see that everyone is in attendance. Thank you for being on time." He sends me a pointed look, and I get the feeling that he expected me to be late. This guy really expects nothing but badness from me.

I save the world countless times, and this is the thanks I get? Maybe next time I should let the apocalypse come, or at least wait to stop it until after it's swallowed up the Council. See how _they_ manage against one.

"Let's just get the review over with, shall we?" says Giles. "Buffy is missing vital school work because of this."

"Now, now, Mr. Giles. Have patience," says Travers. "And in my view, a Slayer does not need to attend school. Everything she needs to know is taught by her Watcher. Anything that is taught in a place like this is simply unnecessary."

"Because Slayers don't live long enough to need it, right?" I can't help but say. I bite my lip when I realize that maybe I said more than I should've done. What will Travers do if he suspects that we're onto him?

Travers just narrows his eyes slightly in my direction before he turns his gaze towards the books on the table. "Researching, are we? Is it a worthy threat? Whatever it is, Miss Young can deal with it later."

It's like he's not even acknowledging that I exist. And saying that Kendra will deal with the threat instead of me? That doesn't give me hope.

"Those are Watchers diaries," Wesley points out.

At Travers's raised eyebrow Giles states, "Buffy wanted to know more about the test, so Miss Chalmers and I were providing her with prior accounts of its use."

"Only Nikki Wood survived," I say aloud.

"She was with child," says Travers. "It would have been unwise to conduct the test properly with her in that state. Though she was irresponsible to fall pregnant in the first place. It was surprising that Crowley did not place the baby up for adoption."

I can only stare. Irresponsible? I've heard of teen pregnancies in the past. A girl back at Hemery fell pregnant when she was sixteen after sleeping with some guy. Neither wanted to become parents and neither were prepared for it, but it was their own fault for not using the right protection. 'Irresponsible' is a word I've heard a lot when describing teen pregnancies, and sometimes, I get it.

But putting the baby up for adoption? Seriously? Part of me can sort of see why; the life of a Slayer is no place for a baby, and raising a child while also fighting demons every night isn't such a great idea, especially with no father in the picture. The child could be orphaned at a young age, just like Nikki's son was – something I don't really blame Spike for because if he hadn't killed her then another demon would've done the job.

Nikki herself was worried that she would get her son killed, so yeah, I can see why putting the baby up for adoption would be the wisest choice. But I get the feeling that Travers isn't thinking of the baby's well-being; instead he probably thinks of it as another reason for the Slayer to rebel. The one thing that's more important than any order given by the Council.

I decide that I need to change the subject. "Only she survived," I repeat. "All the other Slayers died. I'm not a Watcher but I'm pretty sure that's a pretty big give away that the test isn't working and needs to be changed. Why keep it when all it does is kill Slayers?"

It's Giles who drops the bomb. "Unless that is what you intended all along."

"To kill a Slayer whenever she becomes a problem," Lydia finishes.

To his credit, Travers doesn't flinch. His gaze goes from Giles, to Lydia, and then back to me. He begins to pace back and forwards.

"It was always our intention to replace you with Miss Young," he begins. I keep my eyes on him, but out the corner of my vision I see both Kendra and Wesley give looks of confusion. "Had you simply retired and allowed her to take over, we never would have had this problem. Our first attempt was the so called "SlayerFest" you faced some months ago."

"That explains it," says Lydia, more to herself than anyone else. "There has been no such thing recorded anywhere…"

"But when you survived that, we had no other choice," says Travers. He's not even hiding the truth anymore, which would be a little amusing if this entire situation wasn't about how they're trying to kill me. "We had to resort to more traditional methods."

"Of _disposing_ her?!" Giles accuses.

There's no emotion at all on the guy's face. I wonder again if he's a robot. "You must understand, Mr. Giles, that we do this for the good of everyone. A Slayer who doesn't listen is a liability and a threat to everything we hope to accomplish in fighting this war."

" _She_ is fighting _your_ war," says Giles. "The war _you_ are waging."

Lydia adds, "And a Slayer who lives longer would be a far more reliable asset."

Travers just looks impatient with their arguments. "For as long as there has been a Slayer and a Council, our methods have proved to be efficient. We get results. Why fix what is not broken?"

I notice Wesley step forwards; he looks uncomfortable and there's sweat on his brow. "Sir, forgive me, but I am not sure I quite understand what is going on here-"

"Enough." Travers shuts him up with a single look. "Once our business here is concluded, you will not say a word about what has transpired. Instead you will ensure that Miss Young tracks down William the Bloody and eliminates him." He turns back to us. "Thank you for your attendance. And thank you, Miss Summers, for your services."

Everything happens so fast.

One of the men standing on Travers's right pulls a gun from out of nowhere and raises it so it's aimed at me.

Giles immediately leaps in the way and pins me to the table, shielding my body with his.

There's no gunshot – but there is a shrill cry from the man with the gun.

"Oh my goodness!"

It's Lydia's exclamation that gets Giles to pull himself off me, and I take in a deep breath before focussing on what's happened across the room.

Spike, looking angry as hell in his vamp face, is holding the man with the gun in a choke hold; the gun falls to the floor, Spike having forced it out of the man's hand. The rest of the men have their own guns aimed at Spike, but of course they won't do anything; guns can't kill vamps, and obviously these Council guys didn't expect to go up against a vampire.

Travers has taken a step back in shock, and can only stare at the scene with incomprehension. Behind him I notice that Wesley is trying to shield Kendra. Guess he's not such a bad Watcher, after all.

The man in Spike's grasp tries to struggle, but Spike growls and that makes him go still. "Hurt the girl, and I'll kill every single one of you lot without breakin' a sweat. You know who I am – and you know I don't break my promises."

"This is preposterous!" Travers splutters. "You are William the Bloody; one of the most feared vampires of the century! Why did you not kill her?!"

Spike glares at him. "I don't kill weakened Slayers, mate. Thought you already knew that. Why else did you sell me the rot you did? I have honour. What's that say 'bout you and your lot, gramps? You're s'posed to be the top White Hats, and yet you go around forcin' little girls to fight your war and then kill 'em when they're no longer of any use to you. I kill 'em when they're strong and powerful. You bring 'em down and finish them off when they're weak and helpless. Who's evil now?"

I rise to my feet and stare directly at Travers. "Mr. Travers, you tried to kill me. I won't forget that. In waging a war we're both supposed to be fighting together, you've somehow managed to start a war you won't win: against _me_."

Travers stands up straight, but behind the mask he's upholding I can see the beginnings of fear taking hold. "It is _you_ who will not win, Miss Summers. Do not underestimate what we are capable of."

"I should be saying the same about me," I tell him. "You rely on us Slayers to fight your war, but not once have I seen any of you other than Giles and Lydia pick up a sword and join the fight. You need Slayers, otherwise your lives are meaningless. So I think it's about time I start calling the shots."

"You cannot do this!" Now he just looks angry. It's actually kind of funny. "We are talking about laws that have existed longer than civilization. They cannot be changed simply because you want them to."

I feel my eyebrow rise. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about and I don't care."

"The Council orders you to-"

"Orders?" I almost laugh. "After what you tried to do, I don't think I'm gonna be taking any more orders. Not from you, or from anyone in your little 'Council'."

Now there's anger, shock and bewilderment all rolled into one. This guy is the king of amusing facial expressions. "You cannot turn your back on the Council."

"You live in England." I shrug. "I don't think you'll be able to tell which way my back is facing." Spike chuckles, and I see him morph back into his human face, but he doesn't let the man in his grasp go.

"This is preposterous!" Travers turns to Giles. "Giles, talk to her."

Giles looks between the two of us with a smug expression brightening his face. He's clearly enjoying this as much as I am. With all the complaints I've heard about Travers from him over the years, this must be a dream come true. "I have nothing to say right now – other than you'll find my resignation in the post. I quit."

"So do I," says Lydia.

I nod, turning back to Travers. "You heard them. We're not working for you anymore."

The man who walked in here was so sure of the power he held over all of us. Now he just looks lost. "This is mutiny."

"I like to think of it as a graduation," I tell him. "Now you take your men and get the hell out of my school before I drop you out head first."


	12. Chapter Twelve: Aftermath

**Chapter Notes** : Sorry for the wait with this one. I'm getting back into the swing of things now, for real, so there should be more updates coming soon for all my WIPs.

* * *

Travers storms out the library like a five year old in the middle of a tantrum, and his lackeys hurry to follow him – three of them do, anyway. The fourth is still being held up by Spike at the neck, and after wriggling to get out of the vampire's grasp, Spike sends him a growl and lets him fall to the floor. The man grabs the gun he dropped, scrambles to his feet and hurries after his fellow lackeys.

The last to leave are Kendra and Wesley. I notice Wes exchange a look with Giles and Lydia that I don't understand, but Kendra's 'I'm sorry I was so hard on you and I'm sorry I didn't believe you' look is one I totally get, and I send her what I hope is a reassuring smile back. Exchanged looks done, the pair leave the library and then it's just me, Giles, Lydia and Spike.

When the echoing footsteps are gone I finally sink into the seat behind me. I realize that my hands are trembling.

They tried to _kill_ me. If Spike hadn't been here – if he hadn't stopped that guy from shooting me – then I'd be dead right now.

Probably Giles and Lydia too, since the Council wouldn't want witnesses. I glance at my Watcher; he would've been the first, and with Travers gone I'm remembering that he jumped in front of me. He almost took a _bullet_ for me. I'm still a little mad at him for his part in all this, but his actions today override his actions from before, and I think I can forgive him.

He, nor Lydia, had any idea what was _really_ going on. I can give him a pass.

"Buffy…" I see Giles start towards me.

"They tried to…" I choke on my words and cover my mouth. The courage from earlier is gone, and in its place the reality of the situation is starting to sink in. The Council tried to kill me – and they made it clear that this isn't the end.

What if they try to kill me again? What if they go after my friends? My family?

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I think it's Giles for a moment, but then I realize how cold it is, and it's on the opposite shoulder opposed to where Giles is still standing. "Breathe, Slayer." Spike's voice tickles my ear.

I take in several deep breaths and make a lousy attempt to wipe away my watery eyes. God, I must look a mess in front of him. Spike called me a _real_ Slayer the other night, _and_ he made this great big speech about how I had the power instead of the Council. Yeah, I'm _really_ living up to those words right now.

"Some Slayer I am," I mutter, looking down to avoid eye contact with him.

Spike tucks a finger under my chin and tilts my face back up. I almost catch my breath at how blue his eyes are right now, so full of understanding an assurance. "Some blokes tried to kill you. Wouldn't be human if you didn't react like this."

I laugh. "I'm the Slayer. I should be used to people trying to kill me."

"Demons, yeah." His eyebrow rises. "Other humans?"

He's got a point there. The last time I was this upset about someone trying to kill me was when Ford tried to hand me over to Dracula. I quietly decide not to mention that.

"You knew." I look up and watch the slow realization dawning on Giles's face. "Spike, you knew this would happen. Why on earth did you not tell us instead of waiting for us to figure it out?"

"Would you have believed me?" he points out, and he makes a good point. "Even with the evidence in front of your bloody eyes it still took some convincin'. Imagine if I'd told you and you didn't have any other evidence at all?"

Giles gives a little nod-shrug. "Fair point."

"I cannot believe this." Lydia looks just as scared and shocked as me. It makes sense; unlike Giles, who went wayward from the Council during his younger years, Lydia has been raised and trained by them her whole life. "I know that the Council has killed Slayers before, but only when they truly went dark; when they were murdering innocent people, and in that respect had given up their title as the Slayer. But this… Buffy, you have done nothing wrong."

"I have in their eyes. I've lived for too long. I have friends when a Slayer should be alone. I use my eyes and see that not all demons are bad." I glance quickly at Spike. "In other words, I'm not the good, obedient Slayer they want; one who does as she's told and slays where their point."

Spike snorts. "If they weren't so wrapped up in their soddin' tweed, they'd see that havin' Slayers like you benefits them more. When it comes to fightin' a war, experience outranks everything. You'd last a hell of a lot longer in a real fight than some novice would."

I remember what he said about Kendra – about how he could easily kill her if he wanted to – and thinking about the younger Slayer brings back the expression on her face when she left just a few minutes ago. She's been raised and trained by the Council her whole life, too. I can't imagine what she's feeling right now – realizing that the people she was raised to trust could turn around and kill her at any given moment if she even puts one foot out of line.

"So what happens now?" I ask. "Is it too much to hope for that they'll be satisfied with just having Kendra and leave us alone?"

Spike raises an eyebrow that just screams 'yeah right!' while Giles gives a similar look, only more…Watcher-y. "Buffy, in their eyes you have humiliated them and have spat in the face of what the Council stands for."

"But it's not like I renounced my duty," I tell him. "I'm still gonna slay and save the world. I don't think I'd ever be able to sleep at night if I didn't. Shouldn't that be all that matters?"

Spike's 'yeah right!' look becomes an eye roll. "Did you listen to anything I said, Slayer? They may want to save the world, but they care more about how they do it instead of the act itself. It'll get 'em all bloody killed one of these days. Probably take the whole world right along with 'em."

That's comforting, as in _not_. "So basically I've pissed off a group of big ass powerful Watchers who have the power to make me disappear off the face of the earth with a stroke of a pen. Is it too late to let them shoot me?"

Giles drops his glasses and Spike gets this serious look on his face that I've never seen on him before. "Don't even joke about that, pet."

"Why?" I frown. "Isn't that, like, your kind of humour? You kill people, and you've killed Slayers. Pretty sure you wanted to kill me at the beginning of all this."

He tightens his jaw. "Past tense. Big difference."

Of course he's already told me this; that he doesn't want to kill me anymore. So his words don't surprise me, though I'm a little taken aback that he doesn't like even a casual joke about my death. It's not like I meant it.

"We have to do something," Lydia speaks up. "Tell someone."

"There's no one we can trust," Giles tells her. "We have no idea how many people back at the Council know of this, and even if we could find someone who doesn't, they have no reason to believe us even with the evidence we have. Wesley is going to get back to me, but honestly his previous incompetence worries me."

So _that's_ what their exchanged looks meant.

"If he's incompetent, how'd he end up watchin' a Slayer?" Spike asks.

"Connections," says Lydia. "His father is very high up in the Council." She looks thoughtful. "You don't suppose-"

"If Wesley's father isn't involved in this, I would be highly surprised," Giles tells her.

I rise from my seat. "Can we make a more concrete plan later? What do I need to worry about right now? Will they try to kill me again? Will they come after my friends? My family?"

Giles and Lydia exchange worried looks before my Watcher turns back to face me. "I know you do not want to hear this, Buffy, but…I would be shocked if they _didn't_."

* * *

"I'm gonna die!"

Xander would normally snark at Cordelia for making a comment like that, but he doesn't, because he's too busy staring at me with wide eyes, as is Willow. Even Oz looks stunned, which is a rare sight.

Everyone's lunch is untouched, and I shift in my seat under everyone's gaze. "Guys…?"

Xander is the first to speak. "So instead of just demons trying to kill us, now we've got to worry about humans, too?"

"That means the angry letter won't work…" Willow says, mostly to herself, before focussing on me again. "Are…are you sure they tried to kill you? Because, you know, maybe they saw Spike and tried to kill him, but you got in the way, and-"

"Trust me," I interrupt her. "They had guns, and those kill _people_ , not vampires. Travers outright admitted that he wanted me dead. And if Spike hadn't been there, I'd probably be dead right now. Giles and Lydia too, for that matter."

Xander looks disbelieving before saying, "Yep, I'm really saying this about a vampire: Thank god for Spike."

"What a hero." Cordelia gazes at nothing, probably fantasizing about Spike saving her – again. Why do I always get a hot case of burning jealousy whenever she has this reaction to Spike?

It's Willow who pulls me back. "So Giles isn't…you know…"

"Going the way of Anakin Skywalker?" Xander adds helpfully.

She nods. "Yeah. That."

"Giles didn't know what was really going on, and neither did Lydia," I say. "And Giles was ready to take a bullet for me. Add in the fact that he and Lydia quit the Council, and that spells 'forgiven' in my book."

Cordelia, who's returned from Day Dream land, slams her palm down on the table to get our attention. The panicked look from before has returned. "Is anyone listening to me? I'm gonna die!" She pauses for a moment, thinking. "Do you think I could pay Spike to be my bodyguard?"

"Priorities," Xander coughs into his hand. Cordelia just slaps him upside the head in response. "Ow!"

"It's great that all is forgiven between you and Giles," says Oz, ignoring the antics of Tweedledum and Tweedledum-er, "but will your mom feel the same way?"

"I'm pretty sure she will once I explain what happened," I reply. "I'll have to make sure she doesn't overreact, though."

* * *

"Mom, put down the axe and _listen_ to me." But Mom ignores me and tries to escape out the back door. I block her path and snatch the axe from her hands. "Look, I know you're angry, but-"

"Oh, angry doesn't even _begin_ to describe how I'm feeling right now." Oh god, I don't think I've ever heard Mom sound like that before. Maybe I should set her loose on the Council after all. I think she'd manage it even without the axe.

She makes a grab for said weapon, but I hold it out of her reach. "Am I really acting like the responsible one here? Mom, if you kill Travers then his big and powerful friends will bite back. Hard. They could give you the death penalty if they wanted to, then Dawn will be sent to live with Dad and I'll end up on the streets or worse."

"Maybe Mom can murder his friends, too," says Dawn from her seat at the kitchen island. Her arms are folded across her chest and her eyes are narrowed. If looks could kill over long distances, then Travers and his followers would all be lying dead in their hotel rooms right now.

Spike was right before. My family are unbelievably scary.

Mom takes a step back and inhales deeply in an effort to calm herself down. "Does Spike have any plans to kill them?"

So Mom's a little bloodthirsty. Why not turn her into a bear and complete the transformation? "No. Giles asked him the same thing, and he said that he didn't want to make things worse. Since he's been seen with me, they'll just trace it back to me instead of writing it off as a typical vampire kill." Actually, now that I think about it, Spike looked pretty distant when Giles and I were talking about our next move. I'll have to ask him why when I see him later. "And at the end of the day, killing him is wrong."

Mom doesn't look happy with my response. "So it's wrong to kill a man who has no qualms with killing you or anyone who gets in his way?"

"Yes…no… Ugh, I don't know!" I place the axe on the kitchen counter before I lean against the island with my head in my hands. If this is what tackling grey questions feels like, then I sort of understand why Watchers teach their Slayers the whole 'demons are bad, humans are good' lesson. Trying to answer a question like this in the heat of battle would pretty much get a Slayer killed.

But it doesn't make their black and white teachings right.

Mom sighs. "Buffy, I understand that this is hard for you. But if that man, or any other man, comes here to kill you or Dawn, I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even kill."

* * *

"She's a mum. If she didn't react in this way, there'd be something wrong with her."

I sigh. I know Spike's right, but I'm still worried. I pause to stake a vamp that's crawling out of his grave before we continue through the cemetery. "It's not the fact that Mom could kill Travers that bothers me, really. If she does, well, you won't see me crying and it'll be problem solved. What I'm _really_ worried about are the consequences of an act like that; like what would happen to us if and when Travers's equally powerful friends come knocking for some good old fashioned revenge. Speaking of which, I don't know what Travers is planning yet in that same category."

"Can't kill him," Spike agrees. "But you can't touch him any other way."

I groan. "It's hopeless."

"No, it's not," he assures me. "If anyone can fight this, it's you, Slayer."

"I guess." It's hard to feel confident when I feel so helpless; when it looks like there's no way I can win. But it felt that way when I found out the Master was destined to kill me two years ago, and then when Dracula killed Owen. It takes time, but eventually, I always come out on top. But I can't get cocky. I just have to keep going; keep fighting. "We'll figure it out."

He looks unsure. "Yeah, uh, Slayer…about that 'we' part…"

I frown. "There's a 'we', isn't there?" I recall his distant look from earlier and worry begins to build up in my chest at what the look, and his words, could possibly mean.

Spike sighs. "I have to go."

Why does this upset me? I knew it was coming. Sure, he's helped me, he's nice to me and my friends and family, and I kinda like him, but he's still a vampire. Whatever tentative truce – or even _friendship_ if I really wanna push it – we have will never last, one way or the other. Getting blood from the butchers is – was – a temporal arrangement. Sooner or later he'll start killing again, and I'll have to stake him in return. I know it'll be better for both of us if he leaves.

But it hurts more than it should. "Why?"

"Apart from the bleedin' obvious," he says, "I've been away from them for too long."

Away? Them? Does he mean his family? "But…I need you here…to help me with the Council, and… You saved me today, and…"

"Doubt they'll try and straight up shoot you again," he says. "And you don't need me; I told you already that you're the best Slayer I've ever seen. You can handle it. And you have your mates, and the Watchers. You'll be fine."

"But…"

He places his hands on my shoulders. "Buffy. Trust me when I say that if I stay here, I'll only make things worse for you. If they show up…if _he_ shows up…"

"They? He? Are you talking about your family? Angelus?"

He nods. "They may not think much of me and I don't think much of them, but family is family. We have obligations to each other. They'll come and find me, if they're not already on their way. Trust me, pet; if they show up here then the Council will be the least of your problems."

I understand. Boy, do I understand. If I hadn't read up on them all before, Spike's few comments about them alone would be enough to tell me that his family coming here would be of the very bad variety. It's hard to see Spike go, but I understand why he has to.

Spike begins to pull away, and the urge to keep him here with me – at least for a little longer – overwhelms me. I grab his hands before they leave my shoulders, and he sends me this look of surprise which I'm probably reflecting right back at him. I'm not really sure what I'm doing, either.

All I know is that he can't leave just yet. I'm not ready to say goodbye to him.

"I…" And now I don't even know what to say to him. Stupid Buffy brain.

"Pet?" He's subtly standing ready, not sure what to expect, almost in a fighting stance…

Fighting. There's an idea.

"Before you go… Last night you said that you still wanted a fight," I say, hoping it sounds natural enough; like I'm just casually reminding him instead of making a plea for him to stay, at least for a little while longer.

He looks surprised. I guess he'd forgotten about that, too. "Now?"

I nod. "Before you go, yeah. If you're leaving tonight, I mean. It can be your goodbye present from me."

Spike considers me for what feels like ages, and I'm actually afraid that he'll turn me down. He did forget about it; maybe today's events changed his mind somehow? But then suddenly, without warning, he uses my grip on his hands to flip me onto my back as he turns quickly. It's the shock of it that catches me out, and when I land on the grass the first thing I notice is that it didn't hurt.

The sneaky vampire stands over me with a massive, playful grin spread across his face. "Lesson the First: Never let your guard down."

I flip to my feet and turn to face him, my grin matching his own. This is gonna be fun.

There are some nights where patrol is so slow that I extend the few fights I have, mostly with fledglings, in order to kill time. But toying with them isn't all that exciting either, as most of the time I end up staking my opponent because I'm bored with them.

But with Spike? I'm having so much fun that I actually lose track of time, and that never happens.

We're equally matched. Our strength, our style; it's all same, and yet we still manage to keep each other on our toes. This is the kind of fight I've only dreamed of having – and judging by the look on Spike's face, he feels exactly the same way. We're both enjoying ourselves.

Eventually Spike slips up – part of me wonders if he did it purposely – and I'm able to swipe his feet out from under him. He lands on his back and I immediately straddle him. My stake is in my back pocket, but I don't need it; I press my fist over his heart, pretending to stake him.

Neither of us speak; we just stare at one another, panting and wondering if something else is happening here. I think there is, but I can't put my finger on what. It looks like Spike is leaning forwards, and I feel myself leaning forwards, too-

"She's a pretty little thing, isn't she? If you'd told me she looked like this, Willy my boy, I would've brought us here a whole lot sooner."

The second we hear the voice, Spike pushes me off him and leaps to his feet, placing himself in front of me but not in a way that's obvious. I climb to my feet slowly, my eyes never leaving the trio of vampires who have arrived on the scene.

There isn't any doubt. This is Spike's family; the remaining three quarters of the Scourge of Europe.

And I'm in trouble.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Whirlwind

**Chapter Notes** : Here's a (very long awaited) update!

* * *

"Angelus!" Spike calls out with false cheer – _I_ can tell that it's false, anyway. I realize that he's trying to divert their attention away from me, which is impossible; I'm a Slayer outnumbered by vampires. "So nice of you to finally notice my disappearance."

As I look over the three vampires, I have to conclude that, yeah, outward appearance totally matters in this family.

I read in a book that Angelus took his name because of his angelic face, and oh mamma, was he right to name himself that. He looks like one of those tall, dark and broody guys that pretty much every girl is attracted to, what with his gelled up hair, black leather jacket that's not quite as long as Spike's, the white vest underneath and the silver chain necklace hanging down. He looks like the kind of guy I would've drooled over a couple of years ago – and his psychotic grin quickly reminds me of his reputation as the deadliest vampire in history.

The two women standing either side of him are both short and around the same height as each other, but that's where the similarities end. The blonde one – Darla, I remember – is wearing what I can only describe as 'Faith' clothes. Her outfit – consisting of black crop top with black jeans and platform boots, complete with a black and gold choker necklace – gives off a really slutty vibe, but one that's full of power.

The brunette, Drusilla, is the complete opposite. She's just another great example that vampires can't keep up with the latest trends, though to the credit of other vampires like Spike, at least their fashion sense is from this century. The black silk dress that Drusilla's wearing is probably something from before she was turned – which, according to the books, was sometime during the mid-1800s. I guess the dress suits her; it completes the creepy scary movie vibe she's totally giving off right now.

They're definitely not like any other vampires I've encountered before.

Angelus shrugs in response to Spike. "You know how it is."

"We were too busy not caring," Darla says flatly. "We would've come later, but Drusilla was winging. She needed her babysitter back. And when we found out exactly where you'd gone and what Slayer you'd gone after…" She glares at me.

It takes everything I have not to glare back at her for just how flippant she is about Spike.

Drusilla's gaze falls on me. "The darkness shields the light. The moon blocks out the sun in a total eclipse. He stops the sunshine from burning us. My prince…my Spike…"

Oh yeah. Those two are, like, lovers or something. I don't know why that bothers me so much. But Spike already said something about this before; something about things changing over a hundred years, and about always being second best to Angelus…

"Spike doesn't need to protect us from the Slayer," Darla insists. "We're not fledglings."

"Then how come you've never fought one?" Spike asks. I can't see the expression on his face, but I can tell from the tone of his voice – and from the fact that Darla turns her glare away from me and sends it his way, instead – that he's grinning.

"Slayers never interested me," says Angelus. He's slowly looking me over with a seriously disturbed expression on his face, and it's giving me goose bumps. "Trained since birth to be hard as nails. They can't be broken, at least not in the way I break people." His expression gets creepier, if that's even possible, as he meets my gaze. "But you're tempting, little Slayer. So pure and…virgin."

"This one shines." Drusilla closes her eyes and rolls her head back slowly. "Slayers reek of death. They live for the hunt and hunt in the dark. They live in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound. She is destruction…absolute…alone. Always alone. But this sun is surrounded by stars. I see faces, holding ties, chaining her." Her eyes open and her gaze lands on me. "She does not live for the hunt. She lives for _them_."

I shiver.

Angelus frowns, more out of curiosity than confusion. "She has a family?"

"And friends," says Drusilla. "All standing beside her, like pretty maids all in a row."

I pull out the stake from my back pocket. "If you hurt any of them, I swear-"

"Oh, a Slayer with buttons." Angelus grins, and it's terrifying. "Buttons were meant to be pressed. I wonder…" He takes a step forwards, "how many can I press before you break?"

Spike growls. "Back off, Angelus. This Slayer's _my_ kill. Go nail puppies into people's doors, or something."

OK, _so_ hoping he doesn't mean that last part. "I'm nobody's kill." I hold my stake ready. "As far as I'm concerned, you're all dust on the wind." Apart from Spike, but I don't say that aloud.

"If we were really dust on the wind," says Angelus, while taking another menacing step forwards, "why aren't we?"

I grip my stake tighter. "Why haven't you attacked me yet?"

"We _will_." Darla looks ready to launch herself at me, but Angelus places his arm out in front of her, holding her back. "You'll pay for what you did to the Master." She turns to the taller vampire. "Angelus, let me go. Have you forgotten that she killed Penn, too?"

"Patience, Darla." Angelus only lowers his arm when he's confident that she won't attack me. He turns back to Spike. "Why don't we step back and see if Spike can kill himself a fourth? He might even end up on top this time," he finishes, probably referring to the scene they walked in on.

And fourth? I turn to Spike. "So Sophie-"

"Shut it, Slayer." Spike turns to me and shifts into game face. He looks intimidating – but having seen what he was like during the test, when he was actually trying to hurt me, I can tell that he's just putting on a show.

Nothing's changed. He still doesn't want to kill me. But how are we gonna get out of this unscathed?

"If Spike kills her then we can move on," Angelus tells Darla. "If not, well… We'll be staying a little longer, now won't we?"

Drusilla claps her hands together like an excited three-year-old. "Ooh! Kill her, Spike! Kill her for Mummy!"

Spike begins to circle me, stalking like a predator, and I instinctively mirror his movements. "So that's Drusilla, huh?" I can't help but comment. "Your lover? Your taste in women is questionable."

"I said _shut it_ , Slayer." OK, I think that one had some bite.

I stop myself at the last second from apologizing. Obviously Spike doesn't want his family to know what's happened between us over the past few days, and I can list a lot of reasons why keeping it all a secret is a good idea.

I feel the eyes of the three vampires watching us, and the pressure is on.

Spike attacks first, and while it becomes clear that he didn't hold back with me before – the punches are just as strong and hit just as hard – the fight isn't playful and fun. It's fierce and gritty; it has to be in order to look convincing.

We don't exchange that many hits before Spike suddenly grabs me by the shoulders. He roars, looking like he's about to bite down on my neck, and I instinctively push him back, hard. His grip on my shoulders tightens and he pulls me with him – through the bushes behind him and then down the hill on the other side.

As we fall, Spike holds me in a way that forces him to take most of the impact, and I realize that he did this on purpose.

We roll into another set of bushes at the bottom of the hill, and once we stop Spike pulls away a little so he can look me dead in the eyes. His vamp face is gone, and amber has been replaced with blue.

He makes sure I'm paying attention before he whispers only one word.

"Run."

He doesn't need to tell me twice.

* * *

No one's awake when I get home, so I wait until morning before I tell Mom and Dawn what happened.

"But aren't those the usual rules?" Mom asks after I tell her not to let strangers in after dark. And even if she knows them, she needs to make sure she has a cross on her in case they've been turned.

"Look through the window first," I say. "If you don't know who they are, then don't even open the door. Especially if it's a brunette woman whose outfit is a century out of date. I read up on her, and she has a thrall. She can make you invite her in." I turn to my sister. "No sleepovers until this is over."

"But-"

"Your friends' parents don't know what's going on, and they could invite anyone in," I tell her. "You also need to come home straight after school. If you have to stay behind for any reason, then you phone Mom so she can tell me and I'll come stay with you. Please don't be stupid or stubborn about this, Dawn. These vampires are more dangerous than even Dracula. Spike wants us to take precautions, too."

OK, that's a bit of a lie; he never told me that, but I'm sure he would've done if he'd had the chance. But my words have their desired effect anyway, and Dawn doesn't argue.

"Is he gonna be alright?" she asks, looking worried. "With them?" I see the concern on Mom's face, as well.

I'm worried too, but I don't show it for their sake. "He'll be fine. He's been with them for over a century. It's nothing he can't handle."

They don't look convinced, and maybe that's because my words didn't convince _me_ , either.

* * *

I head straight for the library when I get into school. Willow, Xander and Oz hurry to play catch-up, but I don't slow down until I push through the double doors and enter.

Not only are Giles and Lydia present, but Wesley and Kendra are, too. So is Cordelia, but she's probably just here for her own benefit.

"My father can help," Wesley is saying.

"Even if your father did not plan this with Quentin, he most likely knows the true purpose of the test and agrees with it," Giles tells him. "Either way, if you attempt to contact him over this, he will no doubt report back to Quentin and inform him that you are trying to aid us."

Wesley sighs. "Why must Kendra and I pretend that we are on their side?"

"Because we need a man on the inside," Giles replies.

I clear my throat, and everyone turns to me. I wait until Willow, Xander and Oz have joined us before I speak. "It's great that you guys are getting right on this, but we need to put it aside for now. We've got bigger problems."

Giles takes off his glasses and sends me a stern Watcher-y look. "Buffy, the Council could strike at any moment. We have no idea what their next move will be, and therefore we will have no warning if they decide to kill you or any one of us. What could possibly be worse than that?"

"Spike's family. They're here."

And I thought the silence after Spike's revelation yesterday was tense.

Xander speaks first. "And the award for the worst timing ever goes to…"

"Good heavens." Wesley takes off his glasses as well, and Cordelia was so right before when she called him Giles Jr. "The Scourge of Europe?"

I nod. "They arrived last night when I was out with Spike."

"How on earth did you manage to get away?" Lydia asks.

"Spike and I pretended to fight, before he made us roll down a hill and into a bush," I reply. "Then he told me to run."

"Spike helped you?" Giles asks, looking surprised.

"Yeah." Why wouldn't he?

"So just to clarify," Xander speaks up again, "these are the guys who make Spike look like a kitten in comparison? To quote your own words."

I nod again. "Yeah."

"And Angelus is the worst of them all," Kendra adds. "He is a monster."

"We need to prepare." Lydia hurries away, no doubt to find the books I read before about the Aurelian line.

"I read those books already, remember?" I call after her.

She returns with the books in hand; a whole stack of them. "It will do us all some good to refresh ourselves."

"But do we need to?" Willow asks. "I mean, they probably just came looking for Spike, right? And now that they have him they can, you know, leave. It's unfair that they have to take Spike with them-"

"No it's not," says Xander. "Look, Spike seems like a nice guy and all, at least for a vampire, but that's just it. He's a vampire. He belongs with other vampires. It's best for everyone involved that he goes with them."

He's right. I know that. But it still hurts to hear it out loud; that Spike needs to go with his family and be with his own kind. The fact that I know his family treat him like dirt instead of, well, _family_ , just makes it worse. He wouldn't be happy with them.

Would staying here make him happy?

I shake my head. Even if that were true, he can't stay here. Xander's right about that.

"Now that they have Spike, it would make sense for them to leave," says Wesley. He's flicking through one of Lydia's books. "It says here that Angelus tends to avoid Hellmouths."

"To avoid the competition," I add. "Spike told me."

"Wouldn't a vampire like him beat out the competition anyway?" Xander asks.

"People who live on the Hellmouth are, in a way, used to things like this happening," Lydia replies. "Angelus feeds on fear, and while it exists here, people are too caught up in their own denial to be truly afraid, else this town would be a wasteland. Angelus prefers to hunt where death and fear is rare, so people are more afraid when terrible things begin to happen."

"So that's a 'yes' to them leaving?" asks Oz.

I sigh. "No. Last night Darla made it clear that she wants revenge for the death of the Master. Spike told me that she's wanted it since I killed him, and I don't think she'll leave until she gets it."

"You also killed Penn, who was sired by Angelus," says Lydia. "Does Angelus want revenge for that?"

"If he does, he didn't show it," I reply. "But he was…interested. In me."

And _this_ silence beats out the rest.

"That's…" It looks like Giles is close to speechless. He rubs his forehead. "Angelus has never shown an interest in Slayers before."

Lydia nods. "They were always Spike's focus."

"I know," I say. "The vamp himself gave me the full list of reasons why last night. But then that one with the thrall, Drusilla, told him some stuff about me that she _really_ shouldn't know, and it looked like his interest was growing."

Willow and Oz have sat down at the table, opposite Kendra and Cordelia, and all four of them are flicking through books. Xander lingers in the background, fidgeting; he never liked research much.

"You might not wanna hear this, Buffy, but…" Willow bites her lip, "it says here that Angelus's most common victims are young girls who are short and have blonde hair….and they're always…uh…"

"Virgins," Oz finishes for her, leaving over her shoulder.

I nod. "I know." I actually forgot about that part. It made me really nervous back when I first read it, but the 'Angelus avoids Hellmouths' and 'Angelus avoids Slayers' parts gave me self-assurance that I had nothing to worry about. But now I'm thinking that those things won't matter to him now. The way he was looking at me last night…

"This is so not fair!"

We all turn to Cordelia, who's staring down at the book in front of her like it's committed the greatest sin ever. Which in Cordelia's eyes would be something like wearing the exact same outfit as her to school.

"What's up now?" asks Xander in a tired and annoyed voice.

Cordelia holds up her book and points to a picture of Angelus. It's black and white, taken sometime in the late 1950s, judging by the clothes he's wearing. He looks like a member of Danny Zuko's gang from _Grease_.

"This. Is. Not. Fair!" She pokes the picture repeatedly with her finger. "First Spike, and now _this_ hunk of muscle. Why do all the hotties have to be vampires? Does God hate all the good looking men, or something? It's the only reason he'd turn them all into monsters. It's just not fair!" She slams the book back down on the table – Kendra actually _flinches_ – and looks ready to sulk.

Xander snarks, "Gee, and here we all are worrying about evil vampires and corrupt Councils when we _should_ be worrying about Cordelia's trouble finding a date for Prom. Are our third world problems getting in the way of yours?"

She scoffs. "Says the guy who's just standing around like a useless moron."

"Ladies!" I get in Xander's way before the girlie hand-slapping starts. "We need to get our priorities straight and make a plan."

"Absolutely." Giles puts his glasses back on.

"We've got the Council and three powerful vampires to watch out for," I say. "Wesley: You and Kendra go back to the Council and try to find out what their next move will be. Lydia: You and Giles research the vamps and find out as much as you can outside of what's in these books. But do it at your homes because, like Spike proved yesterday, anyone can walk in here. The school isn't safe after dark. Everyone else: After school finishes, go home and stay there. No Bronzing, no hanging out. If someone comes to your door, make sure you're the ones who answer. Actually, you probably shouldn't open the door at all unless it's someone you know – and even then make sure they haven't been vamped. I'll talk with Spike tonight and find out what's going on with his family."

Giles frowns. "Buffy, are you sure that's wise?"

I frown back. "Why? Don't you think we can trust him? He saved my life – twice, now. The second time from his own family."

He sends me that usual Watcher-y look he reserves for whenever I say something he doesn't like. It's his polite way of saying 'are you stupid?' "This is still his family we are dealing with. He may have saved you from them once already, and he may have been helpful with the Council, but Xander is right. He is a vampire, and vampires cannot change. Don't expect his help with this. He has travelled with his family for over a century, and now that he has been reunited with them, his priorities will no doubt shift back to them and whatever truce he holds with you will be forgotten. In other words: we have _four_ powerful vampires to contend with instead of three."


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Betrayal

**Chapter Notes** : Sorry it's been so long.

* * *

"Stupid Giles, making me question things," I mutter as I walk home as quickly as I can. I didn't want to leave Mom and Dawn alone, but I needed to patrol – and find Spike.

I don't know if I should be angry or worried that he didn't show.

I mean, it's not like we arranged to meet up. There really wasn't any time to make plans with three psychotic vampires to worry about, but their arrival should've been enough for Spike to realize that I'll want to talk to him again. On the other hand, he could know that I want to talk to him but can't get to me because the other three are torturing him, or something.

They definitely sound like the kind of family whose idea of family bonding is torturing one another. And considering that the books all say that Angelus is the torture king…

I don't know what would be worse, that option or the third option that Giles stuck in my head; that Spike has cut off all ties with me now that his family is back. It was kind of obvious that he really doesn't like them, maybe not even Drusilla anymore, but they're his own kind – and more importantly, they're his family.

Me? I'm just a Slayer – a killer of his kind. Why can't I get it through my head that whatever we had over the past few days can't go on?

But damn it, I actually think of him as my friend now. That's the only reason why it hurts whenever I think about him leaving, or worse, sticking with his family. It's stupid and ridiculous to think like this – he's a vampire, leaving would be best for both of us, and why _wouldn't_ he want to stick with his own family – but I can't help it. Spike's grown on me, like one of those stupid weeds which has pretty flowers but eventually destroys your lawn.

I've really gotta come up with better analogies.

Home comes into view and I cut across the grass in order to reach the door faster. I hurry inside. "Mom?"

"Buffy! In here!"

There's slight panic in her voice. Something's wrong. But she's not screaming, so it can't be Angelus or the other two. The Council?

I run, following Mom's voice into the kitchen, but instead of finding Council lackeys threatening Mom and Dawn – or Mom threatening some unlucky Council lackeys – I find the first aid kit open on the kitchen island and the two members of my family fussing over a beaten and injured Spike.

So it was the torture thing, after all.

He looks terrible. There are cuts all over his body, most likely from a knife, though some look like they were from claws – or nails sharp enough to be claws. Drusilla's work, probably. I can't help but notice that the cuts look precise; they're not just random slashes. There's no doubt that Angelus took his time with each and every one of them.

There's also bruising in lots of places, but the one I notice the most is the one that covers almost a quarter of his face, including his left eye, which has been swollen shut.

His duster has been placed almost lovingly besides the first aid kit on the island, and both his red button-up shirt and black t-shirt are bunched up in a ball by the door leading down to the basement. Both are covered in blood stains and the red shirt has been ripped beyond repair.

But if his shirts are on the floor then what's he…?

I turn back to him and my eyes widen a little with the realization that yes, Spike's chest and freaking six pack are on full display. I feel a little stupid that I didn't notice it before when I was focussed on the cuts and bruises all over him, which I guess means I have my priorities straight because I _should_ be more focussed on his wounds instead of the marble Greek statue perfectness that's sat in my kitchen only a few feet away…

Gah! Bad Buffy brain! No ogling the wounded vampire.

"Buffy?"

I blink. All three of them are staring at me, and I wonder how long I've been standing here just staring at Spike's…well, _that_. I blush a little. "Spike…I'm…" God, it's my fault he looks like this.

He shakes his head. "No need to apologize for anything, pet. Not your fault."

"He came here looking for you," Mom explains. "I told him that you'd gone out on patrol, and to look for him, too."

"Wanted to come straight out and find you, but they cornered me and wouldn't let me leave until I let them patch me up," Spike says. He tries to sound annoyed, but the beginnings of a smile on his lips tells me all I need to know about what he really thinks of their fussing. "Never stood a bloody chance."

"Language," Mom scolds him. Spike huffs but he doesn't argue.

"He could barely walk," says Dawn. "We _had_ to keep him here."

My gaze drifts down to his legs, which are still covered by his black jeans. They _look_ OK…

I look up and my eyes meet his. "Did you drag yourself all the way over here? Are you insane?"

"The Bit's over-exaggeratin'. I can walk." To prove it he hops down from the counter. His legs wobble a little and he has to pause for a moment, but he remains standing. "You think I'd crawl all the way over here in a town like this? You're off your rocker."

"Yeah, well…you're off _your_ rocker, whatever the hell that means," He chuckles at me, but I ignore him, "for coming here at all. You may be walking, but Xander could probably take you right now. Imagine what another demon could do to you."

"Don't need to imagine it, luv." He gestures to himself.

I wince. OK, that was probably a poor choice of words. "Sorry."

"So," Dawn throws her damp cloth into the sink before turning to me with her arms crossed, "are you gonna beat up the vamps who did this to him? Spike says I can't because they're too dangerous."

"Probably too dangerous for big sis, too," Spike says.

"Doesn't matter," I tell him. "I'm the Slayer. It's my job to fight bad guys. And I'm with Dawn on wanting to beat them up for doing this to you."

There's a flash of surprise – and maybe awe – in his eyes, but it's gone again as quickly as it came.

"Honey, are you sure you can handle them?" Mom asks. "Spike hasn't told us much about these vampires, but they sound horrible."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Mom, they're vampires. Ergo, part of my job, like I just said. And I kill vampires every night. No big."

"Err, _yeah_ , big." OK, Spike shouldn't try to talk like me ever again. It sounds weird with his accent. "These aren't your run-of-the-mill vamps you'll find holed up at _Willy's_. These are the vamps that other vamps fear."

Instead of resisting the urge again I just give in and roll my eyes. "Spike, I'm trying to stop my mother from worrying, and you're really not helping."

"I've never stopped worrying about you, Buffy, and I never will," Mom says. "But now I have a reason to worry more."

I know she has a point, and really, I'm just as worried that the new Fang Gang will come after my family and friends. Angelus _did_ say something about pushing my buttons and breaking me…

"I won't be alone," I say. "Everyone's helping out, and I have Kendra."

Spike scoffs. "You really think she'll last even one second against those three?"

"I'll give her my own brand of Buffy training," I tell him. "Make her more street smart."

"You don't have to just rely on Kendra," Dawn says. "You have Spike, too."

At this Spike lowers his gaze, as if he's suddenly spotted something interesting on the floor. I recall that he did the same thing last night before telling me he was gonna leave. So what does it mean this time? He's not leaving, since his family is here now, so what?

"Spike?"

He looks up again, his eyes meeting mine, before he nods in the direction of the front door. "Talk outside?"

So it's something he doesn't want Mom and Dawn to hear. That can't be good.

"Sure," I say.

Mom and Dawn don't argue; I expect Dawn to, but instead she joins Mom in cleaning up the first aid supplies. She's just being good because Spike's here. Why can't she behave like this with me?

"Thanks," Spike says to the both of them. "Appreciate this." He gestures to himself while picking up the black t-shirt that's still stained with blood.

"Anytime, Spike." Mom sends him a smile in return while Dawn quickly crosses the room to hug him.

Spike takes a small step back when she does, and he stares down at her in surprise – with a little bit of awe thrown in, like last time. But when he gently returns the hug I see another emotion in his eyes: sadness.

I start to worry about what he's gonna tell me.

After slipping his t-shirt back on Spike retrieves his duster and we make our way outside to stand under the tree that's next to my bedroom window. I expect Spike to start talking right away, but instead he takes out a pack of cigarettes, fishes one out and lights it up. He inhales like the smoke is his source of oxygen.

"You know those will kill you, right?" I say with a raised eyebrow.

All I get is a raised eyebrow in return, and while I said it as a joke it really is that easy to forget that he's not human.

He takes the cigarette from his mouth and holds it between his fingers. "Slayer…" he begins, but doesn't know what else to say; he just stares at the ground again, and it really gets me worrying about what he wants to tell me. If it's too hard for him to put into words…

I wonder if temporarily changing the subject will help. "Did they hurt you as badly as you look?"

He gives a little chuckle. "Don't go worryin' over me. I've had worse. Angelus uses any and every bloody excuse under the sun to torture me – or Dru, or Darla, dependin' on his mood. Today's reason was lettin' myself get captured by the Council of Wankers – and lettin' you get away."

I look down. "So it _is_ my fault. Spike, I'm sorry-"

"This isn't your fault, alright," he assures me, looking me dead in the eye. "It's mine for lettn' myself get captured in the first place. 'Course then I never would've met you…" He trails off with this little adorable smile on his face, and I can't help but smile back. "What is it with you Slayers and blamin' yourselves all the bloody time?"

My smile falls. "Because every time I stake a fledge, I'm staking someone who I could have saved. I see vamps who look like they were someone's mother, or sister…" A few weeks ago, I had to stake a vamp who could've easily been a regular at Mom's gallery, and who had a similar fashion sense to Mom. The only thought that ran through my head as her dust settled was 'I wonder whose mom she was?'

"See? This is why Slayers are too young," says Spike. "The weight of duty is too much for them, and they harden into a bloody robot because it's too painful for them to feel anything. Grown men can barely stand this amount of responsibility."

"I just wish I could save everyone."

He lays his hand on my shoulder. "Even if you were more powerful than you are now, or if there were thousands of you, you wouldn't be able to save everyone. Things happen all the time, luv. It's impossible to be everywhere in the world. And honestly, seein' what I've seen over a hundred plus years…not everyone deserves to be saved. Take the Council of Wankers, for instance…"

I smile again, but only a little. "God, the Council seem like mild inconveniences compared to your family. Do you think they can put aside their differences when they learn about the new players in town?"

"Hard to say." Spike shrugs, looking down at his feet once again with that hesitant look on his face.

I've had enough. "Alright, that's it. What do you wanna tell me, Spike? I've already got the memo that I'm not gonna like it, so you might as well just spit it out."

He sighs. "Alright, luv. Well, first thing's first, they're stayin', though I s'pose you knew that already."

"It wasn't hard to connect the dots after what happened last night," I say. "So, is Angelus…?"

"He took a gander at you and fell into obsession," says Spike.

Part of me already knows this. The way he was looking at me last night… Hearing this really shouldn't surprise me, and it doesn't. But that doesn't mean I don't feel something that I've rarely ever felt: fear. I can count on one hand the times that my job has truly terrified me – that includes recently when I lost my powers – and after reading up on Angelus and knowing what he's capable of… The thought of him directing all that on _me_ …

"So…what happens now?" I ask Spike. He has to help me. He knows Angelus better than anyone. I _need_ his help.

"Things will be quiet for about two weeks," he explains. "Once he's delivered his first message- Wait, have you received anything from him?" I shake my head. "That'll be comin' soon, then. Either tonight or tomorrow night. But once you've got it, he'll wait for around two weeks – maybe longer, maybe shorter, all depends on how you react."

"Why wait?"

"It's his first form of torture," Spike explains. "Patience can cause fear. If you had no idea when he was gonna strike, wouldn't you be beside yourself with worry? Always lookin' over your shoulder, always too afraid to go to sleep, always worryin' about what he could do to your friends and family when you're not with them…"

I see his point. "I can see how that would be torture. So, two weeks?"

"Give or take a few days, yeah." Spike nods. "Then he'll start leavin' gifts. The first few will be harmless enough, but the more he leaves, the more brutal they are. You heard what I said about the puppies, right?"

I shudder. "Yeah."

"Watch yourself on Valentine's," Spike adds. "He makes his so-called "best" masterpieces on that day. He'll start turnin' people you know, too. Not close friends or family yet; just people you know from school, for instance. Classmates and such."

I bite my lip. "I won't let him get that far."

"You say that, but he's a bloody powerful vamp, luv," Spike says. "It'll be hard to take him on, even for someone like you."

"I have to try," I tell him. "I can't just leave him to his own devices when he'll be killing people left and right. But…if it _does_ get that far…when will he start killing the people closest to me?"

He shrugs again. "Depends on how you react to his other "gifts". It was always different with different girls."

It makes me sick that Spike knows all this. He wasn't responsible for anything Angelus did, but knowing he'd been watching every single time and did nothing to stop his grandsire or do anything to help those girls…

God, I've got to stop thinking like this. Spike's a vampire. An unusual one with a sense of fair play, but a vampire nonetheless. He's still evil despite what he's done for me. Why would he save some random girls he didn't even know from a member of his family? There's no reason why he would.

I freeze.

There's no reason why he would help me now.

Is there?

I think back to what Dawn said in the house – how I'll have Spike helping me – and the way Spike reacted. He lowered his head and asked if he could speak to me outside.

That can't mean… "What about you?" I have to ask. I have to know.

He avoids eye contact, like he knew this question was coming. And his expression says it all; telling me what I already fear is true.

That he's not gonna help me. That I'm alone on this one.

"Buffy…" He turns back at me and I can see the sadness in his deep blue eyes. "Pet…I can't… They're my family…"

"You don't know the meaning of the word," I spit. I can't help the hurt and anger that builds up inside me. Even though part of me was expecting this, the feelings still take over. "Drusilla may have turned you – they may be related to you in a vamp's own, twisted way – but I'm not blind, Spike. They couldn't care less about you. And you don't care about them, either."

"It's not about whether or not we care about each other, Buffy!" Spike suddenly yells. "We're _vampires_! It's never been about that! It's about obligations-"

"Screw obligations!" I yell back. "A true family sticks together, thick and thin! Family is the definition of love!"

"Not for my kind." His voice is low again and he turns away, the sadness overwhelming.

My anger starts to die, but the hurt still remains. He knows that what I'm saying is true; I can see it written all over his face. I'm suddenly reminded of the way he acted around Mom and Dawn; the way he treated them, the awe in his eyes at the way they treated him, how he stayed that night when he could've gone somewhere else, how he was helping Dawn with her homework, why he came here tonight…

Spike can love. His vampire family can't.

And he wants a family who _can_.

"Stay with us."

Spike turns back to me once more, his eyes wide with shock. "What?"

"Stay here. With us," I repeat. "Spike, you don't have to stay with them. Not now. Before… You didn't have anywhere else to go, did you? That's why you stayed."

"It's a bit more complicated than that, pet-"

"So stay here. You have somewhere to go now. You don't have to let them hurt you anymore."

I see it for only a few seconds; hope in his eyes, that he can escape his family and get away from them. But it's gone as quickly as it came – he can change emotion at the drop of a dime – and instead he backs away, shaking his head. "I can't…"

My anger starts to return. "Why not?"

"Use your bloody _brain_ , Slayer!" he yells again. "If Angelus ever found out – and he _will_ – he'll screw his plan and hurt the lot of you just to hurt me! I have to…I have to stay away from you, pet. From all of you."

I see his point. I really do. But I can't let Spike hurt himself just to protect me. I need to protect him, too. "But Spike, you don't have to be alone on this. Neither of us do. We can help each other…"

He rolls his eyes. "This isn't a bloody fairytale, Slayer. This isn't some chick flick where everyone lives happily ever after. This is the real world. I'm a vampire. You're a Slayer. Do you honestly think things will work out well for us?"

I can't answer, because the truth is too hard for me to say. "But…I…I thought you were my friend." And boy, doesn't _that_ sound like a pathetic, desperate plea?

His eyes soften for only a moment before they forcibly harden themselves. "Was friendship ever in the cards for the likes of us?"

He didn't deny it. But his words still hurt. "So you won't help me?"

"Look, I can try and convince them to leave, but once Angelus sets his mind to something…"

So that's a 'no'. "Just get out of here, Spike. Thanks for the warning, but if you're not gonna help me fight and stay alive, then you're better off with your so-called "family". So stay away from mine, and stay out of my life."

"Buffy-"

But I don't wanna hear what he has to say. I've already heard enough. I turn and storm back inside the house, slamming the door shut behind me. I'm able to stop myself from using full Slayer strength at the last minute; it'll do none of us any good right now if I splinter the door into tiny little pieces.

"Buffy?" I turn to where Mom and Dawn are sat on the couch in the living room. The TV is on and the volume has been turned right up. Probably to intentionally drown out the sound of Spike and I arguing outside.

I take in a deep breath and try to get a hold of myself. "Everything's fine." I can't tell them what happened. They like Spike, and like before, I want them to have one final good memory of him. Deep down I know that none of this is his fault – he doesn't really have a choice – but it doesn't stop the hurt I feel at his betrayal.

OK, so maybe calling it a 'betrayal' is taking it a step to far…but that's how I feel right now.

I say my goodnights and head upstairs to my room. Then, when my door is closed and I'm sure they can't hear me, I lie down on my bed and cry.

And cry. And cry.

I can't help it. I know I'm acting like an idiot, letting myself feel things for a soulless vampire, but… Dammit, it's his fault for being so likable and so _human_ …

When I open my eyes, I notice an envelope stuck between the crack in my window.

I remove it, and while part of me thinks it could be from Spike, another part of me feels the dread that this letter invokes.

I open it and find only one word written on the paper inside. I know immediately who it's from, and it's not Spike.

 _Soon_.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Busy Nights

**Chapter Notes** : In celebration of _Buffy_ 's twentieth anniversary!

* * *

I guess Willy's a busy guy tonight.

His entire place is trashed. I mean, there have been fights in the bar before, but never to the extent that they leave _this_ mess behind. It's kind of frightening, and there's no doubt in my mind who's responsible. Stupid Sisterhood of…Jeans, or whatever. Why can't demons just leave me alone? I've got enough on my plate with the Council and the Scourge of Europe to deal with.

Speaking of which…

When I find Willy lying on the floor behind the bar, I also find Spike crouched next to him. He's applying bandages to several cuts on the man's head.

He looks better than when I last saw him a few days ago. His cuts and bruises are all but gone, and while I'm happy to see him looking better, I can't help but jump to the conclusion of _how_ he got better. It no doubt includes blood, and since he's back with his family now who are no doubt feeding on the populace…

Spike turns when he feels my presence. "Before you go off on one, Slayer, I didn't do this. Found the poor sod lyin' here bleedin' to death."

"So you're patching him up. That's awfully helpful of you," I can't help but bite at him. Seeing him again reminds me that I'm still mad at him. "I never knew you were that helpful. I should remember that the next time a big powerful vampire is trying to _kill_ me." He goes to speak, but I don't let him. "What are you even doing here, anyway? And before you say 'helping', that's not a good enough answer. I ask for your help with your family, but you won't give it to me."

Spike sighs and gets to his feet. "Pet, I know you're upset, and you have every right to be, but they're my family. I told you before; I can't just up and leave them and expect them to be OK with it. And even if I could, they'll just come after you and yours to get to me. What am I supposed to do?"

Honestly? I don't know. And I know he has a point – that doesn't mean I have to like it. Plus, I'm hurt, and he's the only one I can lash out at. "Make a choice. Though seeing how healthy you are again, I think you've already made it."

He frowns. "You're not happy to see me better?"

"That's not the problem," I elaborate. "It's _how_ you're better that concerns me."

His eyes widen when he catches my meaning. "I haven't killed anyone!"

"Then you just got magically better all on your own without the need for blood?" He goes to say something, but again, I don't let him. "Save it! You have nothing left to say to me that I wanna hear. Get out of here, and the next time I see you, Spike, I'll have a stake with your name on it."

I don't mean it, and I think he knows that, too. I just need him to get away from me. It makes it easier to hate him – but not by much. Because I don't hate him; I just hurt.

He hurts, too; I can see it in his eyes. But his expression hardens in an attempt to cover the pain. "Called an ambulance. It should be here soon." He turns and storms out, his duster waving around behind him. How does he get it to do that? We're inside, so there's no wind.

I crouch down next to Willy. "Did the demons who did this say anything?"

Willy just nods towards the door, looking almost…disappointed with me. "He's right, you know. He's been in here…every night…drinking what I've got…I swear it. I know vamps…and he's been drinking…what he needs. Swear it on my life, Slayer…or what life I have left, anyway…"

Spike's been in here? Drinking blood and not killing people? "He's…"

"Why d'you think…he was here…tonight?" Willy says. "Got here…right after your little End of the World club…left. Didn't even think…to take a…sip from me…and I'm covered."

Crap. Now I feel like kicking myself…

"Dammit."

I got to try and clean Willy's face, but he pushes my hands away. "Don't worry 'bout me, kid. Ambulance is on its way, like he said. But honestly, if that Hellmouth opens…this is gonna be the least of my problems, is my train of thought. I'd be thinking about how I wanna spend my last night on Earth." He winces in pain. "If I were you…I'd go apologize to your vamp and then find somewhere quiet together."

Wait, what? "We're not…I mean, we're friends, sure, but…we're not…you know…"

Willy looks surprised. "With the way that guy…talked about you…when he came in…I assumed you were."

"In case you forgot, Willy: he's a vampire, and I'm a Slayer," I say. "We're not exactly compatible with each other. It's impossible."

He shrugs with a wince. "Impossibilities die quickly around here, kid."

* * *

It's another week before I find Spike.

I'm fighting a vamp in a cemetery when he appears next to a large crypt. He doesn't join the fight; just stands back and takes out a cigarette to smoke.

I speed up the fight with the fledge and stake him, before turning to Spike with my hands on my hips. "You know, for a guy who's supposed to be staying away from me, you're doing a majorly sucky job of it."

"And for someone who speaks English, you butcher it like there's no tomorrow." He takes a long drag of smoke, and I notice that he aims the exhale away from me. "Besides, I have some information you might find useful. Heard you encountered some followers of Balthazar."

"You heard right," I say. "But it's just his followers; the head honcho's a dead demon. Died a while ago, according to my sources."

But Spike shakes his head. "Then your sources were wrong."

I sigh. I'm _so_ gonna kill Wesley. "And let me guess: he's here in Sunnydale, looking for his amulet which can restore his strength, unless Wesley was wrong about that, too."

"Nah, he got that part right," says Spike. "You have the amulet?"

I nod. "Kendra got it last night and gave it to Lydia for safe keeping," I reply. "So this guy's alive – or as alive as a demon can be?"

Spike shakes his head, to my surprise. "Was. Darla and Angelus found him in some packin' warehouse on Devereau last night. Cleaned the bloody place out." He actually looks upset. "They didn't even think to invite me."

"Poor Spikey." I reach over and pat his shoulder. "Did the big mean vampires make you feel left out?"

He rolls his eyes. "Ha, bloody ha, Slayer."

My smile dies when a thought occurs to me and I frown. "But why would they take him out? Isn't that, like…a human killing another human? Which is murder anyway, but you know what I mean."

"They're a rival family," Spike says. "Did your Watcher ever give you the whole 'vamps are a territorial bunch' lesson? If he hasn't, then he needs to go back to Watcher school. That's one of the first lessons you learn."

"Giles taught me fine," I say. "It's Wesley who needs to go back to Watcher school."

He smirks. "Tell 'im we _are_ territorial, 'specially the master vamps. Bloody understatement if you're talkin' 'bout Angelus and Darla. Had anything from the Great Forehead yet?"

I nod again. "A letter that just contained one word: Soon. But how long is his definition of 'soon'?"

"I'd give it another week," he says. "Maybe longer. They wasted enough time settlin' in as it is."

"Settling? Where?"

"That abandoned mansion on Crawford Street." It's funny how he already knows the street names in this town; almost like he's memorized them so he and I can stay on the same page without him having to over-explain things. "Angelus was shaggin' the bitches when I left. They'll be a while."

"When do they hunt?" I ask. Maybe if I can avoid their hunting times and sneak into the mansion early morning when they're asleep…

"I know what you're thinkin', Slayer, and you're not ready for them," Spike says. "Trust me. I've known this lot for over a hundred years."

I notice a hand punch its way through the ground a few feet away, and I calmly walk over to it with my stake ready. Spike follows, and I kneel down next to the grave just as the vamp's head and shoulders appear. I drive the stake through his chest and he turns to dust.

I turn back to Spike as I stand up again. "But I can't let them kill anyone. It's my job." I feel guilty enough; they've no doubt killed people already. The vamp I just staked could've been one of theirs.

"Not my fault if people are too stupid to go out after dark in a town like this." Spike lets his cigarette fall to the ground and he stomps it out. "They've already got themselves a few minions, anyway. Dru made a few durin' that apocalypse last week. Knew about it, and probably used it to her advantage."

"Because she knew I'd be trying to stop that instead of patrolling like normal." And the guilty award goes to…

"Like I said, pet; can't be everywhere at once. People die every day."

Speaking of the apocalypse and people dying and feeling guilty… "Spike…about what happened last week… Willy told me that you've been going to him for blood. So I'm sorry-"

"What've I told you about apologizin' to me, pet?" Spike snaps, but he doesn't look angry. "It's fine. You were angry with me before, and you jumped to conclusions. With what else is goin' on, I can hardly blame you. The Great Forehead, the Council…"

The mention of the Council reminds me of the talk I had with Giles, Lydia and Wesley today. "You know, I hoped that the Council would leave me alone with your family here. The enemy of my enemy, or however the saying goes. But even with the threat of the Scourge of Europe around the corner, they're still plotting like twisted little masterminds. According to Wesley, Tweed-Toed Travers isn't taking the matter as seriously as he should. He's blinded by his rage aimed at me, so much so that he doesn't even see the possibility that the Scourge of Europe could do the job for him and dispose of me." When Spike growls I add, "Wesley's words, not mine. Giles had a similar reaction – without the growling."

"Does the Junior Watcher have an inkin' as to what the Wankers are plannin'?" he asks.

I shake my head. "According to King Tweed himself, Wesley's only business is with his Slayer, and that he should have no right to get involved. And they're not exactly gonna leave their super-secret evil plans lying around." I sigh. "So after that bright bit of doom and gloom to start the day, I had a Chemistry test, and then after school Mom bugged me about college leaflets. How was your day?"

He looks upset again. "Listened to the others shag, before I had to babysit Dru while the Bastard and the Bitch went to take out that other git. Could use something to hit."

I smile. So part of me is still mad at him about before, but really, he doesn't have much of a choice, and he's right; a vamp and a Slayer together isn't a good idea. But it'll be nice to forget about that for just one night; this might be the only chance we get, since he has to avoid me, and all. "Tell you what? Why don't we go check the warehouse in case they left any stragglers behind? I was planning to give the warehouse district a sweep on my patrol tonight, anyway."

He smiles back. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

The warehouse is empty, and there's no trace of the cult…apart from three stragglers left behind, and Spike and I are caught off-guard when they jump us from behind.

"Never knew vamps could be into uniforms," I say. They're all dressed in leather, like they were when I fought them two nights ago. Of course they're not nearly as sexy as Spike in leather, and oh my god, did I really just _think_ that?

The two of us get pinned down side by side before Spike replies. "Pathetic, if you ask me. Not even the Master bothered with bloody uniforms." He's barely even paying attention to the vamp he's struggling against.

I kick the vampire off me and Spike does the same, sending the pair rolling away from us. "It's not _that_ pathetic. They have the badass warrior attitude going for them. Fair fight, honour…"

"I'd appreciate it if they weren't tryin' to kill us." Spike blocks a high punch from his assailant before grabbing his shoulder and flipping him forwards. The vamp lands on his back before Spike kneels next to him, picks up a splintered plank of wood and rams it home. His opponent turns to dust.

I duck to avoid a swing from my attacker before I punch him so hard he flies into a lamppost. I take out my stake and ram it into his chest. He turns to dust, too.

I hear a snarl, and I turn to see the last vamp running at me. I send the vamp an upper cut, and he stumbles away…right into Spike, who twists him around and throws two punches at his face. Spike then brings out a roundhouse kick, but the vampire catches it. I'm just as surprised as Spike looks, and the vampire uses the advantage to throw Spike into the wall behind him. Spike immediately begins to get back up as the vampire draws his swords.

I hurry up behind him, hoping to catch him off-guard, but he turns and uses his long sword to cut off the tip of my stake. I jump in surprise, and quickly duck to avoid a second swoop from the sword. I drop what's left of the stake and stay low, before I dive towards him and grab both arms. I twist them, forcing him to drop his swords before I punch him in the head. I try to kick him, but he blocks it, along with my second kick. I go in for another punch, but he grabs my hand and pulls me towards him, ready for a bite. I try to push him away.

Suddenly he turns to dust, and I find Spike stood before me with the splintered plank from before.

"What took you so long?" I ask with a grin.

"Was doin' fine on your own until then, luv," he says, dropping the plank. "Good fighter, that one. Haven't met another vamp in a long time who can best me like that."

"Yeah," I agree. "I think that's the last of them. We should probably go. Like, five people have probably called the cops by now with the noise we made."

But Spike stops me before I can leave. "Wait."

I frown. "What?"

He sniffs the air. "Can smell blood. It's fresh."

"Fresh?" I look around. "I can't see anyone."

"Think we might have interrupted a snack those stragglers were havin'." He looks around before pointing down an alley behind the warehouse. "The smell's comin' from down there."

I hurry past him. The person could still be alive.

I hear Spike behind me, but I don't stop running until I find the body. It's a man, somewhere in his late thirties maybe, and he's wearing a suit that's covered in blood. I kneel down beside him and immediately bunch his shirt up to cover the wound in his chest. I feel for his pulse at his neck, but there's nothing there.

I look closely. There are no puncture wounds. The vamps didn't kill him.

I pull my bloody hand away from his chest and look at the wound more closely. It's round. Sort of like…

I see the weapon on the ground beside him; a wooden stake covered in blood, and I pick it up to examine it.

What the-?

I don't hear the sirens. I don't even turn my attention away from the man until there's a flashlight shining in my eyes.

"Freeze! Drop the weapon and get down on the ground! Now!"

I look up and find that I'm surrounded by officers.

I'm next to a bleeding dead man. My hands are covered in blood. And I'm holding the murder weapon in my hand.

Crap.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Bad Girl

**_IMPORTANT_** : Please see my end notes.

* * *

"I said drop the weapon and-" The officer doesn't get the chance to finish. He's knocked to the ground by someone behind him, and that same someone knocks out the second. The remaining two officers fire, but they don't hit him and they go down, too.

Spike hurries to my side. "Pet…?"

I drop the weapon and look between the body and my hands. "I…I didn't do it…"

"Know you didn't, pet. Doubt the high and mightys will believe you, though." He hauls me to my feet. "C'mon, we've gotta go, now."

I look back at the body. "But…"

"They'll take the body away, pet. Now come on!"

He manages to pull me away, and we race out of the alley.

I hear my heartbeat pounding in my ear, almost deafening. But it's still not enough to drown out the sound of the sirens – unless the sirens are just my imagination, which wouldn't be a surprise. Isn't that what happens when you're afraid? You start imagining the worst case scenario?

I don't focus on the sirens or the yells I can hear. Instead I only focus on Spike in front of me, leading me god knows where but thankfully far away from danger. I imagine him as a vamp I'm chasing through the night, as if this is just an ordinary patrol on an ordinary evening. It makes thing easier; it helps me forget that I'm running away from the danger instead of towards it, that I found a dead body, that there's blood covering my hands, that my face will probably be all over the news tomorrow morning…

We keep running until we reach an apartment building, and to my surprise Spike hurries inside. I follow him, wondering how he got an invite, unless the enchantment only works for individual apartments and not the apartment building itself…

Spike runs down the stairs instead of up, and I follow still. We reach the very bottom, and he pauses in front of a door – and apartment door; I didn't know they had them at this level – and lets himself in.

Wait, Spike has an apartment? When did he get that?

I step in behind him. It's a basement apartment with one small window in a corner of the room, high up. It's got a few bits of furniture, probably bought with the apartment itself, but not much else.

"Buffy." I turn to Spike, who's running the tap in the small kitchen area. "Come on. Let's get those washed off." He gestures to my hands.

I stay where I am by the door. "What is this?"

Spike looks around the apartment. "What, this? Oh. I just got this place. It's a habit of mine when we move around. They get a place, and I get a place out of the way. A place I can escape to when I need some time away from…them. It's not much, but…" He shrugs. "Need to get my stuff shipped in at some point. Now come on. You need to wash." Once again he gestures to my hands – I don't look down at them, but I know they're still covered in blood.

I've been covered in blood before – mostly my own. I should be used to it. But it's different if the blood isn't your own; if it's from someone who didn't deserve to die.

I slowly cross the room over to him, but when I reach the sink all I can do is stare at the running water – which in my mind, turns into blood. How can I wash my bloody hands if I'm just gonna make them bloodier?

I feel Spike take my hands in his and he places them under the cold water. The shock of it breaks my illusion and I see water again. "That man…"

"Was already dead by the time you got to him," says Spike. "There's nothin' you could've done." It sounds like it doesn't bother him, which yeah, it probably won't, because he's killed people before. He's a vampire. It's what he does. If anything, he sounds more concerned about me than about the dead man who's probably still lying in that alley – or maybe he's being taken away by now. I try not to think about it.

Instead I watch the water washing the blood off my hands. "Someone killed him using a stake. It wasn't vamps."

"And the police just happened to show up in time to catch you standin' over the bloke with the murder weapon in your hands," says Spike. "This smells like a bloody set-up to me."

I finally turn to him. "Set-up?"

"A dead bloke just happens to be lyin' dead in a place where you'd be investigatin' vamps, and he just happened to be killed usin' your weapon of choice," Spike explains. "The whole thing reeks of a set-up, and I'll give you five guesses who's behind it."

My eyes widen when I realize what he's getting at. "The Council."

"Who else? Wouldn't be Angelus. It's not his thing."

I remove my hands from the running water, and he switches the tap off before leading me over to the couch. We sit down. "But…I thought they'd…"

"Fight you with fists and weapons?" Spike shakes his head. "They're not the combat type, pet. You should know that. They're smart enough to know not to fight you like that. They have their own wet works teams, but they'd just waste them on you."

"So instead of killing me…they're gonna ruin me." I feel the tears coming, but I suck in my breath and hold them back. "What am I gonna do? I can't go to jail. But I can't prove I'm innocent. They found me in the most compromising position ever, and the Council aren't gonna leave any evidence behind if they're as good as they say."

Spike kneels in front of me with his hands clutching mine. How can a pair of hands feel cold and warm at the same time? "We'll figure it out, pet. We _will_. Now why don't I call your Watcher and explain what happened, yeah?"

I nod and he walks to where a phone has been set up. "He'll be at his home by now," I say, before giving him the number.

Spike dials and waits for a few moments. "Watcher, it's me." A pause. "Look, I know you don't trust me at the mo with my family in town, but…" He rolls his eyes. "Look, will you listen to me?! It's about Buffy!" He growls. "No, I haven't killed her, you pillock! She's with me! But mate, something's happened. Your Council of Wankers have a plan, and it's a mighty good one. They left a body by the warehouse that was holding that demon git gunnin' for the amulet. A freshly killed body that had a gaping stake wound in his chest. Buffy found him, and the police found _them_. Now, guess who the Sunnyhell police force think killed the bloke?"

Spike holds the phone away from his ear, and I can hear Giles's swearing from where I'm sat.

"Can I talk to him?" I ask, rising from my seat.

Spike nods, and I cross the room and take the phone from him before holding it to my ear. "Giles?"

" _Buffy? Thank goodness. Are you alright?_ "

"Alright as I can be, I guess," I reply. "Spike's got this basement apartment on the other side of town; that's where I am now."

He sighs. " _I cannot believe I'm about to say this, but good. Stay with Spike and stay out of sight. Wesley, Lydia and I will get straight to work on clearing you name. If that pillock Quentin Travers thinks he can do this to you-_ "

"Giles," I interrupt. "Hurry, OK? I…I need to call Mom."

" _Yes, you do. Could you please pass me back to Spike?_ "

"Yeah." I hand Spike the phone and take a step back.

Spike gives the address, and then there's silence before he rolls his eyes. "If I wanted to kill her, Watcher, I would've already done it. Yeah, I know I said I'd stay away from her, but my family don't know 'bout this place. She's safe here, alright? Have a little faith. Now get goin'. If her name's not cleared in the next two days, I'll kill the entire police force myself." He slams the phone down and turns back to me. "All yours, pet."

I try not to think about his threat as I pick up the phone and begin to dial the number for home. I really hope Mom doesn't overreact. The last thing I need to see on the news tomorrow morning is _two_ Summers women wanted for murder.

* * *

" _We go now live to our field reporter with breaking news about a brutal stabbing that has shocked the residents of Sunnydale_." The camera switches to the alley, where there's tape and police officers everywhere. " _Authorities and citizens alike were shocked when the slain man discovered late last night was identified as Deputy Mayor Allan Finch_. _The murderer was found standing over the body at the scene of the crime, but she escaped with the help of an unknown male said to be in his late twenties. The murderer is somewhere in her late teens, has blonde hair-_ "

I switch the TV off. I can't watch anymore.

Spike walks in with a mug of blood. "Your mum should be here soon with your stuff."

I nod. "Willow called. Mom gave her your number."

He nods back. "Heard anything from your Watcher?"

I shake my head. "No." I look at the blank screen of the TV. "Why did it have to be someone so…public?"

"Someone public makes headlines," says Spike. "Gets more people out lookin'. A normal bloke would've just been in the paper; something that's common in a town like this. But someone well-known…"

"Makes big news. Yeah, I got that."

He sighs. "Vamps avoid killin' the rich and famous. Draws too much attention. And if we turn 'em, well, people are gonna know their face no matter where they go or how long they live. That's what happened to Elvis."

I turn to him, surprised. "Elvis is a vampire?"

"He had a lot of fans, even among the undead," he explains. "One such fan didn't want him growin' old, so she turned him. That rot they sold you on the news was fake; a cover-up to hide what really happened to him. People are still seein' him all over the damn place. Poor bloke."

"So where is he now?" I ask.

"Vegas, impersonatin' himself. Where else?"

Despite everything that's going on around me, I can't help but smile. "Wow." But the smile doesn't last for long and I find my gaze returning to the blank screen – the one that showed the happy, smiling picture of the deputy mayor.

I never really paid that much attention to him whenever he was on the news or in the papers – too busy on the look-out for any suspicious deaths or happenings – but from the few times I did I thought he seemed like a nice guy. Someone who makes this town look normal; a guy who'd be out of place if the supernatural was on full display.

And now he's dead.

I feel Spike sit next to me; feel his hand take mine. "Pet…this isn't your fault. You didn't kill him. The Council did. They're settin' you up. The blame is entirely on them."

I shake my head. "But he'd be alive if I didn't declare war on them."

"What else were you s'posed to do? Let the Council kill you? Bend to their whim?" He growls. "This is how they want you to feel; to make you turn yourself in and give up."

"Spike, you don't understand," I say. "I feel dirty. Like something sick creeped inside me and I can't get it out. I keep hoping that it was just some nightmare, but it wasn't. It really happened, and I'm gonna have to face the consequences eventually."

He rolls his eyes. "Buffy, there're no bloody consequences for you to face! This. Was. Not. Your. Fault. If you blame yourself and let the guilt eat you up from the inside, then you'll let them win. And you're not a loser, Buffy. You're not a quitter."

The voices are warring in my head; there's one that says he's right, and that the Council is to blame. But there's another that's always yelling at me twenty-four seven – mostly whenever I stake a fledge and look into the eyes of a monster who had once been a person who I failed to save. "Easy for you to say," I bite. "You kill people all the time. You don't have a soul. There isn't one person you've killed who you've felt guilty about."

I immediately regret my words the moment they leave my mouth, and if I wasn't guilty before, I definitely would be now, seeing the absolute hurt in Spike's eyes. God, I don't wanna see that look ever again. I feel like I've kicked a puppy.

I go to apologize, but a knock at the door halts my words, and Spike's already out of his seat. Yep, he's in a rush to get away from me. Bad Buffy mouth.

Spike opens the door, and Mom is standing on the other side with two bags in her hands. "Spike."

"Joyce." He opens the door wider to let her in, and Mom immediately rushes over to me.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," she says, dropping the bags and pulling me into a tight hug. "Who does that monster think he is, framing you for such a horrific act when you go out every night saving people like him, when you're the last person who would ever do such a thing-"

"Mom." I stop her before she works herself up – or convinces herself to murder Travers in his sleep. "Please. Try not to worry yourself over this. Giles and Lydia are doing everything they can to clear my name."

"And she's safe with me," says Spike, walking over to us. "I won't let them get her. They'll have to kill me first."

Mom sends him a smile. "I know you'll keep her safe." She turns back to me. "And I know you can protect yourself. But please…promise me you won't turn yourself in."

Turning myself in has crossed my mind already. I've lost count of how many times the thought crept into my head, telling me that it's for the best. But like Spike said: if I do that, then the Council will win. But on the other hand… "Mom, they could threaten to hurt you if I don't."

"Don't worry about me," she assures me. "I can hold my own against men like that. And I'll kill them before I let them hurt Dawn."

That really shouldn't be comforting, but it is. "Have the cops stopped by at all?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet. I should get back soon in case they do. This isn't the first time they've spoken to me about you, after all."

"Wait…" Spike looks between us before his gaze lands on me. "About what?"

"There was this incident with a robot," I explain. "It's a long story, but Mom started dating him-"

"You dated a robot?" Spike turns to Mom, and if his expression is any indication, he's trying to appear concerned while also trying to hold back his laughter.

Mom tries not to look frustrated. "I didn't know he was a robot at the time. He just seemed like a nice, normal man."

Spike scoffs. "Which is the norm in a town like this."

I smile a little. "Anyway, he was a typical fifties guy, he didn't like my "misbehaviour", and he slapped me. I hit him back – and sent him down the stairs. I thought I'd killed him. The cops took me in for questioning, debating whether or not I'd acted in self-defence. That question was answered twenty-four hours later, when he returned and tried to kidnap Mom. I ended up knocking his head off with a frying pan."

"It doesn't matter now," says Mom. "It's all in the past." She picks the bags up and shows them to me. "I've packed several changes of clothes, your toiletries and some food. I don't know when I'll be able to stop by again, so don't expect me to pick up your dirty laundry."

"I've got a washer." Spike points to the kitchen area. "And I'll get her food if she runs out. Best you don't stop by here again unless it's important. Someone may follow. Same for phone calls; they can be traced, so don't call-"

"Unless it's an emergency." Mom nods.

My mood dampens even more than before when I realize what this means. "So I won't have any contact with anyone until this is sorted?"

"I'll probably stop by the Rupert's place in the evenings," says Spike. "Just to catch up on things. And I'm sure the other Slayer can patrol for you."

I nod. I'm torn between the small happy feeling that I get to miss school, and the small annoyed feeling that I'm gonna be sitting around here bored all day – and then I push both feelings away, because I need to get my priorities straight. A man's dead, people think I killed him, and the Council set me up. Priorities are good – even if I can't do anything about them. I'm really not used to sitting on the side-lines, waiting for someone else to solve the problem. Is this how Xander feels every day?

Mom looks at her watch and sighs. "As much as I want to stay here all day, I have to go."

I nod, understanding. "No gallery today?"

"What do you think?" She leans in and hugs me tightly. I don't feel it as much as I would do if I were normal, but it's still crushing in its own way. "Stay safe. Don't do anything stupid. Understand?"

"Yes, Mom." I try to hold back my tears, and I can tell that she's trying to do the same.

She places a kiss on the top of my head before she pulls away and turns to Spike. "I'm counting on you, Spike. And if something happens to her, waking up on fire will be the _least_ of your problems."

"Understood." Spike walks her over to the door and lets her out, and once the door is shut he walks back over to me with a big grin on his face. "Bloody hell, I love that woman."

I raise an eyebrow. "She terrifies you."

"That's why I love her."

He really knows how to make me smile. "I hope this isn't a 'take me out on dates' kind of love…" I laugh at the look of horror on his face. "I'm joking, Spike! I think I'd die of shock if the two of you ever hooked up."

The relief on his face is even funnier. "She's a gorgeous woman, but I'd rather she make some other man happy. My tastes are a little…different." He casts a sideways glance my way, and I wonder what that means.

I'm about to mention Drusilla, but decide against it. Instead I remember what we were talking about before Mom arrived. "Spike…I know you don't like me apologizing, but…I'm sorry about what I said. This…whole situation is seriously messing me up, and I have a habit of lashing out at people when I'm not myself. Back when the Master killed me I acted like a bitch towards my friends. Like, bitchier than Cordelia, if you can believe it. She even called me out on it."

"I know you're under a lot of pressure," he says. "Should you have lashed out? No. But I understand why you did it." He's silent for a moment before saying, "And you were wrong. I've felt guilty about kills before. Not many…but they happened."

I blink in surprise. "Why? I mean…you killed so many people…how can you feel guilty about a certain few? What made them special?"

"How I killed them." He sighs. "I killed the Danish Slayer."

Sophie. We were beating around the bush about her before, and hearing him actually admit it… "And you killed her differently. Compared to the other two." I remember reading about her; about how she may have died on the same submarine that Spike sank…

He nods. "Mentioned before that Dru got captured by the Nazis. They were experimentin' on demons; thought they could use our powers to win the war. Were interested in Dru's visions and thrall abilities. They took her, and me and Angelus went to get her back. We managed to break into the sub they were holdin' her on, released the other demons that were bein' held as well, and the Nazis didn't stand a bleedin' chance. Angelus and some other vamp were lookin' for a way to sink the thing when I came across the Slayer…or what was left of her."

"I read about what happened to her," I tell him. "The Nazis kidnapped her and experimented on her."

"We're lookin' to create the perfect soldier," Spike explains, "and here was one readymade. 'Course, they didn't believe in magic, so they tried to take her apart to see what made her tick. Poor girl. Her Slayer healin' was keepin' her alive, but like I said, there wasn't much of her left. And when I found her…she begged me to kill her. So I snapped her neck and made it quick. It was a mercy killin'. You know how I feel about Slayers; they deserve to go out in a blaze of glory, in the heat of battle – not lyin' on some operatin' table at the bottom of the bloody ocean."

It's hard to imagine what that girl went through; called to fight demonic monsters from Hell, only to be killed by human monsters who, by the Council's logic, we're supposed to protect. I find myself actually glad that Spike and the other demons massacred those Nazis.

"Is that why you don't brag about her?" I ask. "Why you don't consider her a Slayer kill next to your other two?"

"It'd be insultin' her memory," he says. "Besides, she was already dead when I found her – I just helped her find peace."

The expression on his face – mourning, guilt, and something else I can't name all rolled into one – once again reminds me for the thousandth time just how human he is. I really don't know how turning works – what all the kinks are and how it happens – but clearly something went wrong when Drusilla turned Spike. She didn't drain all the human out of him. He's still so full of…emotion and love, and it's overwhelming.

Some vampires can love. James and Elisabeth were prime examples. But even they were still vampires to the core, as much as they loved each other.

Spike…is something else. Vampires are said to be human/demon hybrids, but really, most of them are just demons dressed up in human bodies. Spike is the first vampire I've met who actually fits that description.

And his eyes…oh, his eyes are what really give him away. They're his most human quality.

They're looking right at me.

They're getting closer…closer…

They're right in front of me, and I'm drowning in them…

Our lips meet.

* * *

I apologize many times over for leaving you all hanging for so long. I also apologize for what I'm about to say: I promised myself that I would try and finish this story, but honestly? The desire is gone. While I'll always love this show, I've lost the desire to write stories about it. (If you're wondering how I managed to write this chapter, I actually wrote it well over a year ago and completely forgot about it. Oops.) And while I've deleted my other incomplete stories, I can't bring myself to delete this one because...well, I'm really pleased with how it turned out.

So, I'm going to leave it up. Sometime in the future, I may get the desire back again and complete this story.


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